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Updated: May 29, 2025
Greyne's ears like the asthma of dying monsters. She sighed again, and murmured in a deep contralto voice: "It must be so." Then she got up, crossed the heavy Persian carpet which had been bought with the proceeds of a short story in her earlier days, and placed her forefinger upon an electric bell. Like lightning a powdered giant came. "Has Mr. Greyne gone out?" "No, ma'am." "Where is he?"
When Mr. Greyne returned from his shopping excursion the barouche, loaded almost to the gunwale if one may be permitted a nautical expression in this connection had to be disburdened, and its contents conveyed upstairs to Mr. Greyne's bedroom, into which Mrs. Greyne herself presently entered to give directions for their disposing.
Greyne's majestic features, made them look Rembrandtesque. Her large, oxlike eyes were fixed and thoughtful. After a pause, she said: "Eustace, I shall have to send you upon a mission." "A mission, Eugenia!" said Mr. Greyne in great surprise. "A mission of the utmost importance, the utmost delicacy." "Has it anything to do with Romeike & Curtice?" "No." "Will it take me far?" "That is my trouble.
Even while she sat over a cutlet and a glass of claret in the white-and-gold dining-room of the Grand Hotel, preparatory to her departure to the Kasbah with Abdallah Jack, the dozen of Merrin's exercise-books lay upstairs in Mr. Greyne's apartments filled to the brim with African frailty. Already there was material enough in their pages to furnish forth a library of "Catherines." Yet Mr.
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