"
"Well, well," said Calton, rather impatiently, as he opened the door
for her, "leave us for a short time, there's a good soul. Miss Frettlby
and I want to rest, and we will ring for you when we are going."
"Thank you, sir," said the lachrymose landlady, "an' I 'opes
they won't 'ang 'im, which is sich a choky way of dyin'; but in life we
are in death," she went on, rather incoherently, "as is well known to
them as 'as diseases, an' may be corpsed at any minute, and as--"
Here Calton, unable to restrain his impatience any longer, shut the
door, and they heard Mrs. Sampson's shrill voice and subdued cracklings
die away in the distance.
"Now then," he said, "now that we have got rid of that woman and her
tongue, where are we to begin?"
"The desk," replied Madge, going over to it. "it's the most likely
place."
"Don't think so," said Calton, shaking his head. "If, as you say,
Fitzgerald is a careless man, he would not have troubled to put it
there. However; perhaps we'd better look."
The desk was very untidy ("Just like Brian," as Madge remarked)--full
of paid and unpaid bills, old letters, play-bills, ball-programmes, and
withered flowers.
"Reminiscences of former flirtations," said Calton, with a laugh,
pointing to these.
"I should not wonder," retorted Miss Frettlby, coolly. "Brian always
was in love with some one or other; but you know what Lytton says,
'There are many counterfeits, but only one Eros,' so I can afford to
forget these things.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147