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"H-u-m!" said the host, looking very earnestly in Essper's face; "I should have thought that thou wert one more anxious after dish and flagon than curtain and eider-down!" "By my Mother!
I was a friend of the Dalberg family of the Eastern Shore, and of Armand Dalberg himself." He paused, and looked again at the picture. "H-u-m! She is a very beautiful woman, Harleston, a very beautiful woman! I think I have never seen her equal; certainly never her superior. These dark-haired, classic featured ones for me, Harleston; the pale blonde type does not appeal.
If America is one, then, my lady, we shall see who will win this time if you're in it; and I take it you are, else why this picture. Yet to induce you to break your rule and cross the Atlantic, the moving consideration must be of the utmost weight, or else it's purely a personal matter. H-u-m! Under all the circumstances, I should say the latter is the more likely.
Is it possible you've never heard in Paris of Madeline Spencer?" "Never!" "Nor of the Duchess of Lotzen?" "Great Heavens!" she cried. "Is she the Duchess of Lotzen?" "The same," Harleston nodded. "H-u-m! I can understand now a little of her No wonder I felt my helplessness before her polished poise!" "Nonsense!" he smiled.
"Well, your man was a woman and she was accidentally deliberately careful that I shouldn't see her face." "H-u-m!" said Harleston. "Young or old?" "She's got ripples enough on her gown to be sixty, and figure enough to be twenty." "Slender?" "Yes; a perfect peach!" "How's her walk?" "As if the ground was all hers." "I see!" Harleston replied.
He uncrossed his legs and brought his foot down with a bang on the floor. Surely she would understand that he was disturbed. She did not. She went on. "H-u-m, hu-e-e-um, hum " He leaped from his chair, strutted into the hall and out upon the veranda. "Hu-u-e-e hum!" It followed him through the windows of the library, which were open.
"H-u-m," reflected Harleston; and his glance sought Mrs. Spencer's and held it. "Where is Mrs. Clephane now?" he demanded. For just an instant her eyes narrowed and grew very dark. Then suddenly she laughed lightly, with just a suggestion of mockery in the tones. "Mrs. Clephane is yonder!" said she. Harleston turned quickly. Mrs. Clephane was coming down the corridor.
H-u-m.... Well, the Count wrote in a woman's hand; and the finder cannot make anything out of the words: À l'aube du jour.
"H-u-m!" said Carpenter thoughtfully, retrieving the paper he had just swept into the drawer. "How are we to work it, Mr. Marston?" "As allies," Marston replied. "I'm perfectly willing to let you have the book and everything in it, if you will let me have a copy of the letter.
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