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"I have wasted all the time I intend to. My finger trembles on the trigger." The prince, perforce, was quick. The telephone of foreign design, had two receivers. His excellency took one. Mr. Heatherbloom reached for the other and held it to his ear with his left hand. His right, holding the weapon, was behind the prince, as the latter poignantly realized.
Heatherbloom; whereupon he suddenly realized that he was standing on one of the busiest corners and had been making himself as conspicuous as possible. Hastily he moved on. To what destination? He glanced toward a convenient saloon; it looked hospitable and inviting. Then he remembered they man-hunters, in general always searched the saloons first for criminals.
They entered; the place was half filled and they took seats toward the back. There were films, and songs of the usual character; it was very gay. Gurgles of merriment from Creoles and darkies were heard on all sides. They, too, yielded freely, gladly to its infection. Happy Creoles! happy darkies! happy Betty Dalrymple and Horatio Heatherbloom heiress and outcast!
"You were very much irritated angry?" observed the prince at length, quietly. "Weren't you?" she asked. "I? No. It is a bourgeois confession, perhaps." Mr. Heatherbloom sat up straighter; the water dripped from his fingers. "I was pleased," went on the sonorous low voice. "I wished it were so!" There was a sudden movement in the conservatory; a rustling of leaves, or of a gown; then Mr.
Heatherbloom prepared to issue from his neighbor's gate opening on the side street, the feminine voice of one of the servants in the rear of the corner house called out in alarm at sight of the strange figure speeding across their metropolitan imitation of a back yard. If anything were needed to stimulate the fugitive's footsteps, it was the sound of that voice.
One would say he, too, has known this land of orange trees and flowers!" "I?" Mr. Heatherbloom bit his lip. But she only shook a finger. "Oh! oh!" Altogether like a different person from his casual acquaintance of the park! He gazed at her closer; how quickly the marks of trouble, anxiety, had faded from her face; as if they had never existed.
The prince, too, was necessary to complete it; necessary, reaffirmed Mr. Heatherbloom to himself, pulling with damp fingers at the inconsequential lock of hair over his brow. Of course, if the prince could be eliminated from that mental picture of her felicity? but he was a part of the composition; big, barbaric, romantic looking!
This contingency the authorities were now endeavoring to avert; that they also had some kind of a clue, pointing to their present destination and inciting them to make haste thither, was evident from the skeptical remark Mr. Heatherbloom had overheard. A series of explosions, as sudden as spasmodic, broke in on the listener's thoughts. "Hurray!" said one. "We're off!" And they were, quickly. Mr.
And now my little errand for mademoiselle being finished " "You can do as Miss Dalrymple wishes, achieve an embarrassment of riches, and run no risk whatever yourself." "Indeed?" Starting slightly. "At least, no appreciable one." Mr. Heatherbloom explained his plan quickly. Francois listened, at first with open skepticism, then with growing interest. "Mon Dieu! If it were possible!" he muttered.
Don't you understand?" He drew in his breath slowly. "Tell me," she said, still tensely poised, her eyes insistent in the shadow of her hair. "Miss Dalrymple Betty " he half stammered. "I want to know," she repeated. There was an inexorable demand in her gaze. Mr. Heatherbloom straightened. The ordeal? it must be met though that box of Pandora were best left unopened.
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