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"My dear Delia! what you want is to get out of this backwater, and back into the main stream! Even I get stale here. But in those great London meetings there one catches on again! one realises again what it all means! Why not come up with me next week, even if the flat's not ready? I can't have you running down like this! Let's hurry up and get to London."
"Awfully sorry I can't." "But look here, George. You must really. The party's all broken up. Miss Wheeler's had to go back to Paris to-night, and Jules can't come. Everything's upset. The flat's going to be closed, and Laurencine and, I will have to leave to-morrow. It's most frightfully annoying. We've got the box all right, and Everard's coming, and you must make the fourth.
"Come on, boys, let's git things a-goin'!" Mayor Maloney stood in the doorway and beamed good humouredly: "'Tain't every cowtown's got a bank an' us Wolf Riverites has got to do ourself proud. Every rancher an' nester in forty mile around has drove in. The flat's rimmed with wagons an' them train folks is cocked up on the lumber piles a-chickerin' like a prairie-dog town.
The porter flew to help me out of my hansom. His face alarmed me more than any I had left in Half-moon Street. It alone might have spelled my ruin. "Your flat's been entered in the night, sir," he cried. "The thieves have taken everything they could lay hands on." "Thieves in my flat!" I ejaculated aghast. There were one or two incriminating possessions up there, as well as at the Albany.
I tell you, Morgan, that fellow's living there alone and only got half the flat furnished! Take it from me, he's got something on. That flat's just a blind. If it was me, I'd lock him up tonight." "Well, it's coming pretty soon, Tierney," acceded Morgan. "What you've found out today will help a lot."
In the little flat's narrow passage she had to squeeze by a short, stout, dark man, dressed with much elaboration; Miss Quisanté explained afterwards that he was a sort of cousin of her own and Sandro's. "His name is Mandeville," she said. "His father's was Isaacs. You knew we had Jewish relations?" "I thought it not improbable."
Now they stare at you as though they'd eat you, and I know that Markovitch feels them because he keeps looking up at the beastly thing. Then there's But no, I'm not going to talk any more about it. It isn't any good. One gets thinking of anything these days. One's nerves are all on edge. And that flat's too full of people any way." "Yes, it is," I agreed.
"Oh dear!" cried the little Russian typist. "And my mother!... What ever shall I do? She'll hear reports and think that I'm being murdered. I shall never get across." "You'd better stay with me to-night, Miss Peredonov," said Peroxide firmly. "My flat's quite close here in Gagarinsky. We shall be delighted to have you." "You can telephone to your mother, Miss Peredonov," said Burrows.
Did Miss Baker still treasure up in a seldom opened drawer or box some faded daguerreotype, some strange old-fashioned likeness, with its curling hair and high stock? It was impossible to say. Maria Macapa, the Mexican woman who took care of the lodgers' rooms, had been the first to call the flat's attention to the affair, spreading the news of it from room to room, from floor to floor.
His mania for that was the charitable construction which Monte Flat put upon his conduct was indulged, even to the extent of Monte Flat's accepting his invitation to dine with his family on Christmas Day, an invitation extended frankly to every one with whom the old man drank or talked. But one day, to everybody's astonishment, he burst into the bar-room, holding an open letter in his hand.
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