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Propbridge told the switchboard girl downstairs to tell the hallman to invite the gentleman to come up. He proved to be a somewhat older man than she had expected to see. He was well dressed enough, but about him was something hard and forbidding, almost formidable in fact. Yet there was a soothing, conciliatory tone in his voice when he spoke. "Mrs. Propbridge," he began, "my name is Townsend.
At the risk of being tiresome I must repeat once more that your wonderful resemblance to another person led me into this awkward error. His manner was disarming. It was more than that; it was outright engaging. He was carefully groomed, smartly turned out; he had the manner and voice of a well-bred person. To Mrs. Propbridge he seemed a candid, courteous soul unduly distressed over a small matter.
Propbridge; she's the widow of one of the Wilmington Watrouses the firearms people, you know guns, rifles, all that sort of thing and he left her more millions than she knows what to do with." Now Mrs. Propbridge had never heard of any Wilmington Watrouses, but plainly, here in the East they were persons of consequence persons who would be worth knowing.
There was no stink of the stone hoosgow on his correctly tailored garments, and no barber other than one of his own choosing had ever shingled Chappy Marr's hair. Within reason, therefore, he was free to come and go, to bide and to tarry; and come and go at will he did until that unfortuitous hour when the affair of the wealthy Mrs. Propbridge and her husband came to pass.
Gordon-Tracy, the famous beauty, were of the sort with whom customarily he associated. Plainly here was a gentleman who not only belonged to the who's-who but had a very clear perception of the what-was-what. So fluttered little Mrs. Propbridge promptly said yes said it with a gratified sensation in her heart. "That's fine of you!" said Murrill, visibly elated.
Almost before his train had passed One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street Mrs. Propbridge had a caller. She was informed that a member of the staff of that live paper, People You Know, desired to see her for a few minutes. Persons of social consequence or persons who craved to be of social consequence did not often deny themselves to representatives of People You Know. Mrs.
Propbridge is going through; his wife too. They'll go to court; they'll shove the case. And Cheesy Zaugbaum has come clean. Oh, I guess it's curtains for you all right, all right." "You don't exactly hate yourself, do you?" gibed Marr. "Sort of pleased with yourself?" "Not so much pleased with myself as disappointed in you, Chappy," countered the exultant Brock.
I can explain why, the whole thing is so simple when you understand." "Suppose you do explain, then. Get me right, Mrs. Propbridge I'm all for you in this affair. I want to give you the best of it from every standpoint." So she explained, her words pouring forth in a torrent. She told him in such details as she recalled the entire history of her meeting with the vanished Mr.
Propbridge, we have exclusive advance information from reliable sources a straight tip that the proof against you is about to be turned over to your husband and we've every reason to believe that when he gets it in his hands he's going to sue you for divorce, naming as corespondent a certain middle-aged man. Do you mean to tell me you don't know anything about that?" "Of course I mean to!
He had calculated to garner for himself a fat roll of the Propbridge currency; had counted upon enjoying a continuing source of income for so long as the wife continued to hand over hush money.
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