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Updated: May 9, 2025
Gryce had a kind of impersonal benevolence: cases of individual need she regarded with suspicion, but she subscribed to Institutions when their annual reports showed an impressive surplus. Her domestic duties were manifold, for they extended from furtive inspections of the servants' bedrooms to unannounced descents to the cellar; but she had never allowed herself many pleasures.
"Taken there, and hung there by your maid! By the girl Lena, who has so evidently been working in your interests! What sort of a confession are you making, Miss Butterworth?" "Ah, Mr. Gryce," I gently remonstrated, for I actually pitied the old man in his hour of humiliation, "other girls wear gray besides Lena. It was the woman of the Hotel D who played this trick in Mr. Van Burnam's office.
"Leam!" he said in an altered voice: she scarcely recognized it as his. He took her hand in his, when suddenly there came two voices on the air, and Mr. Gryce and Sebastian Dundas, disputing hotly on the limits of the Unknowable, turned the corner and came upon them.
I have put my finger in the police pie for the last time, Mr. Gryce positively for the last time."
The shutting of the door behind his flying figure cut short his sentence. That was a long hour to Mr. Gryce, or would have been if it had not mercifully been cut short by the return of Sweetwater in an even more excited state of mind than he had been before. He held the parasol in his hand. "My test failed," said he, "but the parasol has brought me luck, notwithstanding.
No other sound but that was in the air, and it struck cold upon one old heart. "It is she! I'm sure of it," muttered Gryce. "The man across the river has warned her sent a boat for her, perhaps. Run down to the point and see if there is anyone there who saw her go." Perry slid into the night, and Mr. Gryce stood listening. The quiet dip of the oars was growing fainter every instant.
Nor did it cease with his death. It followed him to the tomb. Witness the cross we found lying on his bosom." "That was the act of another's hand, the result of another's superstition. That shows the presence of a priest or a woman at the moment he died." "Yet," proceeded Mr. Gryce, with a somewhat wondering air, "he must have had a grain of hard sense in his make-up. All his contrivances worked.
These were loose, but rough with bits of severed thread, as if the thing had been hastily cut from some article of clothing to which it had been attached by some half-dozen very clumsy stitches. "I think I understand you, Mr. Gryce," observed Sweetwater, rising slowly to his feet. "But a dream may help me out; we will see." "I shall not leave here till ten to-morrow morning." "Very good, sir.
Lena was not out of my house that day." I had never thought Mr. Gryce feeble, though I knew he was over seventy if not very near the octogenarian age. But he drew up a chair at this and hastily sat down. "Tell me about this other girl," said he. But before I repeat what I said to him, I must explain by what reasoning I had arrived at the conclusion I have just mentioned.
Gryce stopped to locate himself and recall if possible the entire plan of the building. He was in what was called the outer office. The inner one, used only by the president of the concern, opened on his left. There was no one in the latter room at present, the president seldom showing up at night.
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