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Updated: May 26, 2025
For a moment, after she had left him, Gaylor stood motionless, his eyes filled with concern, and then, with a shrug, as though accepting either good or evil fortune, he called from the bedroom Mr. Hallowell, and, from the floor below, the guests of Hallowell and of Vance.
Next day they took the long drive together, Mrs. Gaylor, Angela, and Nick, and Angela's maid for Carmen had not brought Mariette to the Yosemite. Mariette was too talkative, and had been sent home from San Francisco. Carmen did not wish Nick to find out how hurried this journey of hers had been lest he should suspect that it was made in quest of him!
She or he would go a long way, and a roundabout way. Or send a trusted messenger. Tell me straight, Mr. Hilliard, has Mrs. Gaylor got in her employ a confidential maid, or man?" Nick, distressed and embarrassed, angry with the detective, yet unwilling to offend and put him off his work, knew not what to answer. There was Simeon Harp, of course, who would do anything for Carmen.
There is no cause; and I am nobody, and known to few. I'm not worth gossiping about! But I wonder if you'll ever again invite me to Rushing River Camp? I hardly dare expect it. Yet I hope!" Already Mrs. Gaylor had been invited, and had accepted; but Angela was not thinking of Mrs. Gaylor at the moment, and she was doing her best to keep Nick's thoughts from his "boss's widow." He and "Mrs.
She turned to Vance and, in a lower tone but without interest, asked: "What, for instance?" Vance merely laughed and shrugged his shoulders. The girl smiled. Nettled, and alarmed at what appeared to be their overconfidence, Gaylor objected warmly.
Hilliard, a patient has got to be frank with his doctor if the doctor's to do any good. Are you engaged to marry Mrs. Gaylor, the widow of my old client?" "Good Lord, no!" exclaimed Nick, scarlet to his forehead. "Such an idea never entered my head." "Humph! Rumour's wrong, then. But that isn't to say it never entered her head. Does she know Mrs. May?" "No," said Nick. "Surely you're not hinting "
"Would you let me take you there?" he begged. "Mrs. Gaylor'd invite you to stay at her house. You know I've told you about that, and how " "Yes, I know." Angela could hardly have explained why, but somehow she did not want to hear Mrs. Gaylor talked of just then.
With distaste, the irritated city editors "followed up" the three-column story of the Despatch. "Find out if there's any truth in that," they commanded. "The old man won't see you, but get a talk out of Rainey. And see Judge Gaylor. He's close to Hallowell. Find out from him if that story didn't start as a bear yarn in Wall Street."
As she flashed by him, where he stood holding his captive, he thought more and more of his angel vision with the moonlight hair, and it seemed a strange, almost miraculous coincidence that he should behold it in real life, after describing his dreams to Carmen Gaylor. "The nearest window," Angela repeated, respecting the man's shrewdness and presence of mind.
With a dramatic gesture, Vance swept aside from the opening in the cabinet the black velvet curtain. "It's a simple affair," he said indifferently. "As you see, it's open at the top and bottom. The medium sits inside on that chair, bound hand and foot." In turn, Mr. Hallowell, Mrs. Marsh, Gaylor, Rainey, Professor Strombergk entered the cabinet. With their knuckles they beat upon its sides.
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