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For a space she looked at him with cold repellence, eyes black as night. Then her eyes narrowed and she laughed, a mirthlessly sarcastic laugh, so low that Harleston barely heard it. "Is red hair then prettier than black, Mr. Harleston?" she asked mockingly; "or is Mrs. Clephane's character whiter than mine?" "That is not worthy of you, Madeline," Harleston reproved.
"I read your name in the visitors' book," said I, feeling too big a brute to acknowledge the boy's solicitude for me. "I I felt certain it must be you." "How splendid!" cried the great fellow in his easy, soft, unconscious voice, "By the way, may I introduce you to Mrs. Lascelles? Captain Clephane's one of our very oldest friends, just back from the Front, and precious nearly blown to bits!" Mrs.
Spencer's shadow while she was taxiing up the avenue?" "I fancy he was on his job, though you may not have seen him," Ranleigh replied. "His report in the morning will tell." "I would sooner have a report as to Mrs. Clephane's whereabouts," Harleston remarked. "I can't see what good she would be to them now?" said Ranleigh. "She hasn't a thing they want."
"From a man who was one of his intimates, and has reformed; and from having myself been in the aviation field the day of the tragedy." "You heard Clephane's remark?" "I did." "Hum!" said Harleston slowly. "A man of Clephane's habits will accuse anyone of anything at certain times. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't blame Mrs. Clephane, nor any other woman, for chucking such a husband out of the boat.
Or was Spencer's talk just a lie; intended to throw a scare into him and give him a bad quarter of an hour until he would venture to call up Mrs. Clephane's apartment? And if he did not venture, the bad quarter would last the balance of the night. At all events and whatever her idea Madeline Spencer had succeeded in disturbing him to an unusual degree and all because of Mrs. Clephane.
He could not recall a time when he had so much joy in living, and in the expectation of the woman. And when he felt Mrs. Clephane's small hand in his, and heard her bid him welcome, and looked into her eyes, he was well content to be alive and with her. "I've quite a lot to tell you," she smiled. "I'm so glad you could dine with me it will give us much more time."
Clephane's apartment, and her maid has just told me that her mistress has not been in her apartment since five o'clock which was the time she met me. I am persuaded that she is a prisoner, and likely in this hotel held so to prevent her disclosing a certain matter to a certain high official. What I want is for you to make every effort to determine whether she is in this house." "We'll do it, Mr.
"She was Robert Clephane's wife yes, I see in your face that she is your Mrs. Clephane and he led her a merry life, though if rumour lied not she kept up with the pace he set. I saw her frequently and she was as well you have not overdrawn the 'reticence picture. Shall I continue?" Harleston smiled and nodded. "Doubtless you already know the tale," Carpenter remarked. "I know only what Mrs.
Clephane, or anything that points to her, he will advise us." "Good!" said Harleston. "Meanwhile, I'll have another look in Peacock Alley." He was aware that he was acting on a pure hunch. He realized that his theory of Mrs. Clephane's imprisonment in the house was most inconsistent with the facts.
Clephane, we shall meet again and soon," Mrs. Spencer replied, extending her hand. "Thank you so much," was Mrs. Clephane's answer. Mrs. Spencer turned to Harleston with a perfectly entrancing smile. "Good-night, Guy," she murmured. "No, sir, not a foot; I'm going up to my apartment." "Then we will convoy you to the elevator. Come, Mr. Harleston." "It is only a step," Mrs. Spencer protested.
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