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Lydia shook her head. "I hope I shall see him before I go," said Jean. "He must be a very interesting old gentleman." It was Mr. Briggerland who first caught a glimpse of Lydia's watchman. Mr. Briggerland had spent the greater part of the day sleeping. He was unusually wakeful at one o'clock in the morning, and sat on the veranda in a fur-lined overcoat, his gun lay across his knees.
"The wilful murder of François Mordon," said the officer. "You lie you lie," screamed Briggerland. "I have no knowledge of any " his words sank into a throaty gurgle, and he stared past the detective. Lydia Meredith was standing in the doorway. The morning for Mr.
"My dear parent," drawled Jean Briggerland, "after my lecture on the stupidity of the average criminal, do you imagine I should do anything so gauche?" "And now, Mrs. Meredith," said Jack Glover, "what are you going to do?"
"It's a lovely flat," said Jean Briggerland, looking round the pink drawing-room approvingly, "but of course, my dear, this is one that was already furnished for you. I'm dying to see what you will make of your own home when you get one." She had telephoned that morning to Lydia saying that she was paying a call, asking if it was convenient, and the two girls were alone.
"By God, you'll do nothing of the sort!" She raised her hand. "It is too late for you to interfere, father," she said quietly. "François and I shall go our way and face our own fate. I'm sorry you disapprove, because you have always been a very loving father to me." That was the first hint Mr. Briggerland had received that there might be some other explanation for her words, and he became calmer.
Mr. Briggerland closed his eyes and sighed. "It was nothing," he said modestly. Before dinner he and his daughter were left alone for the first time since the accident. "What happened?" she asked. "It was going to be a little surprise for you," he said. "A little scheme of my own, my dear; you're always calling me a funk, and I wanted to prove " "What happened?" she asked tersely.
"It was established at the inquest I got all the documents out after I received your letter that he was in the habit of taking veronal. You suggest he was murdered. If he was, for what? He left the girl about six thousand pounds." "Briggerland thought she was going to get it all," said Jack. "That is conjecture," interrupted the chief. "Go on."
"Come in," said Lydia helplessly. "Isn't it right?" asked the girl a little disappointedly. "They sent me my fare. I came up by the first train." "It is quite all right," said Lydia, "only I'm wondering who is running this flat, me or Mr. Jaggs?" Jean Briggerland had spent a very busy afternoon. There had been a string of callers at the handsome house in Berkeley Street. Mr.
"We are getting deeper and deeper into Mordon's hands," he said, shaking his head. "That is what scares me at times." "You needn't worry about Mordon," she smiled. Her smile was a little hard. "Mordon and I are going to be married." She was examining the toe of her shoe attentively as she spoke, and Mr. Briggerland leapt to his feet. "What!" he squeaked. "Marry a chauffeur?
The sky was a brighter blue and the sea held a finer sparkle, and he was inclined to take a view of even Jean Briggerland, more generous than any he had held. "Little devil," he smiled reminiscently, as he murmured the words. He opened the second bottle of champagne in her honour Mr. Marcus Stepney was usually an abstemious man and drank solemnly, if not soberly, her health and happiness.
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