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Across his energy, his growing excitement, Mrs. Brenton's level voice cut in a little sternly. "What is it that you don't believe, my son?" she asked him. Scott rose to his feet, took a turn up the room, a turn down it. Then he faced her. "I'm not sure I even know that yet," he answered. "I've got to find it out.
In more senses than one, Scott Brenton's rest-time ended with his turning his back upon the country parish. "Well, what do you think about it, father?" Olive Keltridge queried, as she tapped the table with the corner of the note she was holding in her hand. The tapping, however, was no indication of any filial impatience.
In the crowded halls of gay hotels, I see wrecks drifting hopelessly, dismasted and rudderless, to be stranded on hearts harder and more cruel than Brenton's Reef, yet hid in smiles falser than its fleecy foam. What is a mere forsaken ship, compared with stately houses from which those whom I first knew in their youth and beauty have since fled into midnight and despair?
At best, minutes were ahead of him, not hours. At best, the danger in freeing him was almost infinite. None the less, while other men faltered and drew back, afraid, Opdyke had sent an ax crashing into the weakened timbers. All this was told to the professor briefly. The rest of the message was couched in terms so surgical as to convey scant meaning to Scott Brenton's brain.
We must take an officer with us for that purpose, but you can caution or bribe him to keep quiet until to-morrow." When the three went to William Brenton's residence they began a search of the room in which Brenton had died, but nothing was found.
The different cadence, coupled with the unexpected use of Brenton's given name, brought light to Dolph Dennison. "Damn!" he remarked succinctly, letting go the knocker with which he had been hoping to put an end to the discussion. "It's Mrs. Brenton!"
"I?" Opdyke looked startled. "Professor, what a beast of a bore!" "No matter if it is. I believe in the conservation of all latent energy. Brenton's is all latent, and I count on you to do the conserving. I've been asking questions lately. From all accounts, you are the only man in college but myself who has taken the pains to get inside the poor beggar's shell." "Hm. Well?"
This last phase of my querying to phrase it mildly is going to overturn my " And, for the first time in her knowledge of him, Olive heard his laugh ring bitter; "my whole scheme of domestic economics." Bitter as was his laugh, though, Brenton's face was only sad.
Even then, prudence cried out for yet another delay, for the young Indian was carrying so much of his commissariat upon his person that it seemed wise to wash him, before she proceeded to the spanking. Mrs. Brenton's point of view, moreover, was decidedly old-fashioned.
Finding them, to all seeming, gullible and loquacious, she had even ventured on the Bishop. And the good old Bishop, near-sighted and slightly hard of hearing, had carried away the genial impression that Brenton's wife was a very pretty woman and would be of inestimable help to him in managing a parish.
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