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"Never," Kelson assured her. "Old Dipper came to us, half asleep, at four o'clock to ask whether he was justified in locking up the establishment." "And nothing has been seen or heard of the man since," Gifford put in. "That is queer," Morriston said, as though scarcely knowing whether to take it seriously or otherwise.
They were nearing the house, and Gifford was debating whether he dared suggest another turn along the shrubbery path, when Richard Morriston appeared at the hall door, beckoned to them, and went in again. "I wonder what Dick wants. Has anything more come to light?" Miss Morriston observed with a rather bored laugh as she slightly quickened her pace.
"If the suicide idea is to be abandoned," said Kelson, speaking with an unusually gloomy, preoccupied air, "the police have an uncommonly difficult and delicate task before them." "Yes, indeed," Morriston responded. "And I should say that abnormally keen person, the brother, will keep them up to collar." "He means to," Kelson replied rather grimly.
As they were speaking a footman had opened the hall-door and now approached with a card on a salver. "Can you see this gentleman, sir?" he said. Morriston took the card, and as he glanced at it an expression of pain crossed his face. He handed it silently to Kelson, who gave it back with a grave nod. It was the card of "Mr. Gervase Henshaw, II Stone Court, Temple, E.G." "Show Mr.
As she heard the words Edith Morriston stood for a moment as though transfixed, and then staggered back grasping at a tombstone for support. Gifford took a quick step forward, but before he could be of help she had recovered from the shock, and motioning him back, was looking at him with incredulous eyes. "You were there?" she repeated, with more suspicion now than unbelief.
"It is the most extraordinary thing I have ever known. Can you account for it, Stent?" The butler shook his head. "No, sir. Unless someone is in there now." Morriston again shouted, but no answer came. "I presume there is no way out of the room but this door," Piercy asked. "None," Morriston answered; "except the window, and that is, I should say, quite eighty feet from the ground; eh, Mr.
Don't let me keep you," she held out her hand. "Service has begun." He took her hand. "Miss Morriston," he said gravely, "don't think me very unmannerly, but I am not going to leave you here." In the bright moonlight he could see her expression of rather haughty surprise. "I think you are unmannerly, Mr. Gifford," she retorted defiantly. "May I ask why you are not going to leave me here?"
Now unless you undertake to cease your attentions to Miss Morriston, in short to put an end at once and for all to this persecution, I shall effectually remove the hold you imagine you have over her by going straight to the police, giving them the real story of what happened in the tower that night and as a natural consequence shall give evidence to that effect at the adjourned inquest.
But Gifford, keenly on the alert for a sign of regard, was quick to take the hand and press it impulsively. "You may trust me, Miss Morriston," he murmured. "Thank you," she responded simply, but, he was glad to notice, with a touch of relief. She lightly took his arm and they went back to the ball-room. Next day Gervase Henshaw made his expected reappearance in Branchester.
"Now I come to think of it I don't recollect seeing anything of the man after quite the first part of the evening. Did you, Painswick?" "No, can't say I did," Painswick answered. "And," observed Kelson, "he was not a man to be easily overlooked when he was on show. I missed him, not altogether disagreeably, after the early dances." "What is the idea?" Edith Morriston inquired.
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