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The woman was due in a few minutes and Clo spent the interval in concocting a message for Léontine Rossignol. "Tell your mistress I've had news since I last saw her that Stephen is dead," were the words she decided on, before Violet's arrival was advertised by a tinkle of ice. The telegram was delivered that night at the flat in Park Avenue, but Mr. and Mrs.
One of 'em am smashed," answered Clo, ruefully. "No, no; Miss Clory, not as bad as dat," said Dolf; "don't petrificate us wid sich a idee. Jis let me sist yer now." "No, no," cried Clorinda; "wait a minit my foot my foot!" "Hev yer hurt it?" demanded Vic; "let me zamine." "It's my ankle; can't yer understand?"
Oh, if she could only galvanize the dead to speak! But the next best thing was to speak to the telephone. The truth might come from that direction, bit by bit, piecing the different parts of the story together. Clo, getting to her feet again, was struck with a sudden luminous idea. "Kit," the woman she was personating, the woman apparently set to watch Peterson, had found out about the pearls.
"A body must wonder, I s'pose, black or white," said Clo, angrily. "But dat's all you've seen?" "Dat's all, and it's 'nuff and more too." Grantley Mellen stepped back into the library and closed the window. He had need to be alone. Every day, every hour, the mystery which had intruded into his home deepened and took more appalling shapes.
Here is a fairly complete list of their expedients: "If your friend is at all clever, he should write a novel." "If he is not, there is the catalogue of the National Library: ten hours of indexing a day." "If he has ambition, let him become a wine-merchant." "No; 'Old Clo, and get his hats gratis." "If he is very plain, and has no voice, he can sing in the chorus at the opera."
This was good news, and O'Reilly was sure Clo would think it had been worth waiting for. He could not believe his eyes when he saw the deserted table. What could have happened to the girl? He stood forlornly for a moment, staring round the room. As his eyes searched vainly, the waiter who had served him came hurrying up. "The young lady's gone, sare. She had to go very sorry.
"I wanted to see you alone," Angel began again, "so I came back. You've been so wonderful to-day, you've made me depend upon you. If there were anything to do, you'd be the one to do it. But there's nothing ... is there? I can't see any light, can you?" "Let me help you to look for the envelope," said Clo. "Come, then," said the other, in a toneless voice, unlike her own.
He's in; came in over an hour ago, and mentioned that he expected a caller; party to go right up." "He's expecting us, one or both," Clo cut in hastily. "What's his number?" "658, top floor," said the clerk. "The elevator's just over there to the left see?"
"Nebber you mind de parson," said Clo; "laws, I wouldn't wipe my ole shoes on him, 'sides it ed be something wuth while jis' to denounce our connubiolity to de hull company dis ebening." But Dolf flattered and persuaded until she consented to comply with his wishes.
But the restless figure who had first accosted me, still paced the deck, flitting in and out of the obscurity; and as he passed there was the same mien of humbled pride, and the air of a fate of tragic grandeur, and still the same faint odor of old clothes, and the low querulous cry, "Old clo! old clo'!" The ship dashed on.
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