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Updated: May 5, 2025
Clendon, shaking his head; "he is a comparatively new-comer. I could find out for you, if you like." "Oh, no, no!" she said, quickly, and with a touch of colour. "I am not at all curious. I mean," she explained, "that knowing his name would not increase my interest in him; quite the reverse. You know what I mean? But I fancy I am interested in him because I think he may be in trouble.
But the great masterpiece could not hold her attention; she let it lie on her lap and thought of her adventures of the day; she tried not to dwell on Susie's tragedy, though it was difficult not to do so; and presently her mind reverted to Brown's Buildings, to Mr. Clendon and the young man she had rescued.
A dignified hall-porter opened the door leisurely, and eyed the thin, poorly-clad figure and pallid face with stern disfavour. "Is Lord Sutcombe at home?" asked Mr. Clendon, quietly, and not without a certain dignity. "His lordship the Marquess is within; suttenly; but " The man hesitated, with unconcealed suspicion.
For a moment she did not recognize it, then she saw that it was Mr. Clendon. She saw him stop in front of the other two men and she ran forward, calling his name, and, in another instant, she was clinging to him. The old man murmured her name soothingly, and she tried to control herself; but her voice was broken by sobs, as she said: "Oh, Mr. Clendon, I am in great trouble.
"I don't like to ask you " he hesitated "but you would be rendering me a very great service, greater than you can imagine, if you would, if you could, tell me where to find her." There was a silence. Mr. Clendon sat perfectly immovable; but his eyes were searching Derrick's face, and the young man stood meeting the gaze honestly, candidly, unshrinkingly.
Clendon assented; he glanced at the slight, girlish figure in its black dress, at the beautiful face, with its clear and sweetly-grave eyes, the soft, dark hair, the mobile lips with a little droop at the ends which told its story so plainly to the world-worn old man who noted it. "And you work in the Reading Room all day?" "Yes," said Celia, cheerfully, and with something like pride.
Clendon had quietly sunk into a chair and, with his hands leaning on his stick, was looking fixedly at Derrick. "You want to know how we came to know all this?" said Mr. Jacobs, cheerfully. "Well, we had the little affair of the forged cheque placed in our hands, and were following it up when a Mr. Brown, the Sutcombe family solicitor, stepped in and stopped us.
In the circumstances, Derrick was not uncomfortably lodged. The lock-up was an ancient, knock-down affair, and the Inspector had arranged that Derrick should occupy one of the rooms in the adjoining police-station. Here, Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Clendon found him, if not altogether resigned to the situation, at any rate not cast down or despondent. "Well, here we are," said Mr. Jacobs, cheerfully.
"I wanted to ask you a question about a young lady, the young lady who lives in the room above this." For the life of him, he could not bring himself to ask the question straight out. Mr. Clendon regarded him with a calm and courteous scrutiny, which, for all its courteousness, had a note of guardedness and caution. "What do you wish to ask about her?" he inquired.
"Forgive me," said Mr. Clendon gently, but with a calmness and dignity that impressed even the only half-sober Heyton, "but my intrusion is justified, as Lord Sutcombe will bear me out, when he knows I am here." "Oh, well," said Heyton, with an insolent shrug of his shoulders. "I can't speak any more plainly.
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