United States or South Africa ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Briggerland along a stone-vaulted corridor. It was a harrowing, heart-breaking, and to some extent, a disappointing experience for Mr. Briggerland. True, his heart did not break, because it was made of infrangible material, and his disappointment was counter-balanced by a certain vague relief.
It seemed that nothing could save her, and she stood fascinated with horror, waiting for death. Then an arm gripped her waist, a powerful arm that lifted her from her feet and flung her back against the railings, as the car flashed past, the mud-guard missing her by an inch. The machine pulled up with a jerk, and the white-faced girl saw Briggerland and Jean running toward her.
He had called at her lodgings on the following morning to secure her signature to some documents, and breathlessly and a little shamefacedly, she told him what had happened. "Of course it was an accident," she insisted, "in fact, Mr. and Miss Briggerland were almost knocked down by the car. But you don't know how thankful I am your Mr. Jaggs was on the spot." "Where is he now?" asked Jack.
Thun seriously, "was due to the fact that women were sitting on the court martial, which is, of course, against all regulations." "Certainly," murmured Mr. Briggerland. "Keeping me here," Thun went on, "is part of the plot of the Italian government. Naturally, they do not wish me to get at my enemies, who I have every reason to believe are in London." Mr. Briggerland drew a long breath.
"He has his regimental pay and £500 a year, two estates, mortgaged, no brains and a title what is the use of his title to me? As much use as a coat of paint! Beside which, I am essentially democratic." He chuckled, and there was another silence. "Do you think the lawyer is keen on the girl?" "Jack Glover?" Mr. Briggerland nodded. "I imagine he is," said Jean thoughtfully. "I like Jack he's clever.
He lifted a pair of field glasses which he had put on the table, and surveyed the road from the sea. "Mrs. Meredith, I want you to do something and tell Jean Briggerland when you have done it." "What is that?" she asked. "I want you to make a will. I don't care where you leave your property, so long as it is not to somebody you love." She shivered. "I don't like making wills. It's so gruesome."
"I suppose they did when Glover called their attention to the fact," said the girl. Mr. Briggerland took off his glasses and wiped them. "It was done in such a hurry I had to get back through the garden gate to join the police. When I got there, I found they'd been attracted by the shot and had entered the house.
Sea bathing is not permitted in Monte Carlo until May, and the water was much colder than Lydia had expected. They swam out to a floating platform when Mr. Briggerland and Jean put in an appearance. Jean had come straight from the house in her bathing-gown, over which she wore a light wrap. Lydia watched her with amazement, for the girl was an expert swimmer.
Cole-Mortimer is very emphatic on that point." "Has the body been found?" asked Mr. Briggerland. "Nothing has been found but the chauffeur," said the detective. After a few more questions he took Jack outside. "It looks very much to me as though it were one of those crimes of passion which are so frequent in this country," he said.
When he found out how things were shaping and heard some of the queer stories which were told about Briggerland and his daughter, he broke off the engagement and went that night to tell her so." The girl had listened in some bewilderment to this recital. "I don't exactly see what all this is to do with me," she said, and again Jack Glover nodded.
Word Of The Day