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Updated: June 24, 2025
This would not do. He must regain his health at all hazards, so he poured out the mixture which had given him such a sickly air. This done and a rude supper eaten, he took up his auger. He had heard Mr. Brotherson's step go by. But next minute he laid it down again in great haste and flung a newspaper over it. Mr. Brotherson was coming back, had stopped at his door, had knocked and must be let in.
But its echo still lingered in Brotherson's otherwise unconscious ears; for another "Edith!" escaped his lips, followed by a smothered but forceful utterance of these five words, "You know I promised you " Promised her what? He did not say. Would he have done so had the music lasted a trifle longer? Would he yet complete his sentence?
As if answering to the constraint of a will quite outside his own, Mr. Challoner rose. Their heads were now more nearly on a level and Mr. Brotherson's voice remained low, as he proceeded, with quiet intensity. "There has been a time and it may exist yet, God knows when you thought me in some unknown and secret way the murderer of your daughter.
Only, not here, not with all these people driving past; most of whom know me. Come to the house later this evening, after Mr. Brotherson's room is closed for the night. I have a little sitting-room on the other side of the hall where we can talk without being heard. Would you object to doing that? Am I asking too much of you?" "No, not at all," he assured her. "Expect me at eight.
"Is glad to see us on a new tack." A pause, during which the eager light in the young detective's eye clouded over. Presently he remarked: "How will the finding of another O. B. alter Mr. Brotherson's position? He still will be the one person on the spot, known to have cherished a grievance against the victim of this mysterious killing.
The model was reaching its completion, and Brotherson's extreme interest in it and the confidence he had in its success swallowed up all lesser emotions. Were the invention to prove a failure but there was small hope of this. The man was of too well-poised a mind to over-estimate his work or miscalculate its place among modern improvements.
"Because I've read in the papers that the man who stood there had the same name as " "Tell me, Miss Scott." "As Mr. Brotherson's brother." "But you do not think it was his brother?" "I do not know." "You've never seen his brother?" "Never." "Nor his picture?" "No, Mr. Brotherson has none." "Aren't they friends? Does he never mention Orlando?" "Very, very rarely.
Challoner, without a motion on his part or on the part of that gentleman to lighten an exit which had something in it of doom and dread presage. It is not difficult to understand Mr. Challoner's feelings or even those of Doris at the moment of Mr. Brotherson's departure. But why this change in Brotherson himself?
Brotherson's bed was in a remote corner from the loop-hole made by Sweetwater; but in the stillness now pervading the whole building, the latter could hear his even breathing very distinctly. He was in a deep sleep. The young detective's moment had come. Taking from his breast a small box, he placed it on a shelf close against the partition.
"I'm going out myself to-day, so we'll have to hurry a bit," was Brotherson's first remark as they seated themselves at table. "Do you like your coffee plain or with milk in it?" "Plain. Gosh! what pictures! Where do you get 'em? You must have a lot of coin." Sweetwater was staring at the row of photographs, mostly of a very high order, tacked along the wall separating the two rooms.
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