United States or Honduras ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I think Pennold is living somewhere in Brooklyn, and through him you may be able to locate Brunell " Morrow shrugged his shoulders. "A retired crook in the suburbs. That's going to take time." "Not the way we'll work it. Listen."
"You say that you love Miss Brunell, Guy, and because of that, you will have nothing further to do with an investigation which points primarily to her father as an accomplice in the crime. Do you realize that if you throw over the case now, I shall be compelled to put another operative on the trail, with all the information at his disposal which you have detailed to me?
Brunell, was a map-maker, and worked at his trade in a little shop in the nearest row of brick buildings just around the corner that he had lived in the little cottage since it had first been erected, six years before, alone with his daughter Emily, and before that, they had for many years occupied a small apartment near by in fact, the girl had grown up in that neighborhood.
The exultation had died out of his voice, and Jimmy Brunell looked suddenly pinched and gray and tired, and very, very old. "I don't care much what happens to me, but my daughter Emily " "I'll take care of her, whatever happens!" Guy's heart was in his buoyant voice. "But you'll be all right. Don't you worry! Haven't you got Mr. Blaine on your side?"
Guy Morrow's resolve to find Emily Brunell at all costs, stirred him from the apathy of despair into which he had fallen, and roused him to instant action.
Emily Brunell came straight to him, and placed the letter in his hands. "There can be nothing in this letter which could harm my father, if all the world read it," she said simply. "He is good and true; he has not an enemy on earth. It can be only a private business communication, at the most. My father's life is an open book; no discredit could come to him.
Dared he face such a tremendous issue? His acquaintance with Emily Brunell had progressed rapidly in the few days since his subterfuge had permitted him to speak to her. He had met her father and found himself liking the tall, silent man who went about the simple affairs of his life with such compelling dignity and courteous aloofness.
I put my mark on it, sir, so it could be known for what it is, in case of need. Now the need has come." "By Jove, so it is!" Guy Morrow cried, unable to restrain himself longer. "You're a wonder, Mr. Brunell!" "You have rendered us a greater service than you know," supplemented Blaine, the while his pulses throbbed in time to his leaping heart. The crevice!
Presently the spare, long-limbed form of James Brunell emerged from the gloom and disappeared within the door of this little house opposite. Morrow observed that the man's step lacked its accustomed jauntiness and spring, and he plodded along wearily, as if utterly preoccupied with some depressing meditation.
Everywhere the wildest confusion and disorder reigned. Morrow turned aside from the door of Emily's room, but entered her father's. There, save for a few articles of old clothing strewn about, he found comparative order and neatness. The simple toilet articles were in their places, the narrow bed just as Jimmy Brunell had left it when he sprang up to admit his nocturnal visitor.
Word Of The Day