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Updated: June 11, 2025
And when the door closed on the architect she was left face to face with the fact that her son, unknown to any one but herself, was using Darrow's drawings to complete his work. Mrs. Peyton, left alone, found it easier to continue her vigil by the drawing-room fire than to carry up to the darkness and silence of her own room the truth she had been at such pains to acquire.
"Here's your prize, Slade," said the surgeon. Darrow halted, just inside the door. With an eager light in his face Slade leaned forward and stretched out his hand. "I couldn't believe it until I saw you, old man," he cried. Darrow's eyebrows went up.
Anna had exacted of Owen that no one, not even Sophy Viner, should be given a hint of her own projects till all contingent questions had been disposed of. She had felt, from the outset, a secret reluctance to intrude her securer happiness on the doubts and fears of the young pair. From the sofa-corner to which she had dropped back she pointed to Darrow's chair. "Come and sit by me, dear.
But this, again, was negatived by the fact that, during the afternoon's shooting, young Leath had been in a mood of almost extravagant expansiveness, and that, from the moment of his late return to the house till just before dinner, there had been, to Darrow's certain knowledge, no possibility of a private talk between himself and his step-mother.
I shall prove to you beyond a doubt that he has not only heard of this particular work on poisons, but that he has read it and placed his unmistakable signature on page 469 thereof beside the identical paragraph which suggested to Mr. Darrow's murderer the manner of his assassination!"
It was in the natural order of things that, on the way back to the house, their talk should have turned to the future. Anna was not eager to define it. She had an extraordinary sensitiveness to the impalpable elements of happiness, and as she walked at Darrow's side her imagination flew back and forth, spinning luminous webs of feeling between herself and the scene about her.
Even Clemence Verney, whom she secretly accused of a want of heart, had been struck by Darrow's ill looks, while she had had eyes only for her son. Poor Darrow! How cold and self-engrossed he must have thought her! In the first rush of penitence her impulse was to drive at once to his lodgings; but the infection of his own shyness restrained her.
Anna sat silent, so intensely aware of Darrow's nearness that there was no surprise in the touch he laid on her hand. They looked at each other, and he smiled and said: "There are to be no more obstacles now." "Obstacles?" The word startled her. "What obstacles?" "Don't you remember the wording of the telegram that turned me back last May? 'Unforeseen obstacle': that was it.
At sight of him Percy Darrow's lounging gait became accentuated to exaggeration. "Hello, Prof!" he drawled. "On the job, I see. Good morning, Doctor," he greeted Knox. "What do you make of it?" "I make of it that the Atlas Building will shortly be without tenants," replied the doctor; "me, for one." Eldridge surveyed Darrow coldly through the glittering toric lenses of his glasses.
"Yes, they will want to hear," assented Darrow. "You've had Slade's story. I'll take it up where he left off, and he'll check me. Mine's as incredible as as Slade's was. And it's as true." As they had gathered to hear Ralph Slade's tale, so now the depleted mess of the Wolverine grouped themselves for Percy Darrow's sequel. Slade himself sat directly across from the doctor's assistant.
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