United States or Faroe Islands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I assure you that is all." "Not quite," Christabel drawled. "There is something else." "And what may that be, my dear young lady?" "To tell your story to Lord Littimer before you sleep. That kind of romance may do for Great Britain, but it wouldn't make good family reading in the States." "But, my dear young lady, I beg of you, implore you " "Come off the grass!
Except in a vague way he had not the remotest idea what Littimer was talking about. But the younger man must not know that. "So Van Sneck told you so?" he asked. "What a fool he must have been! And why should he come seeking for the Rembrandt in Brighton?" "Because he knows it was there, I suppose." "It isn't here, because it doesn't exist.
"Excuse me. He did nothing of the kind." Chris looked up eagerly. "Oh," she cried, "have you more to tell me, then?" "Nothing authentic," Rawlins said; "merely surmise. Van Sneck is going to recover. If he does it will be hard for Henson, who ought to get away with his plunder at once. Why doesn't he go and blackmail Lord Littimer and sell him the ring and clear out of the country?
In default of prandial attractions, Littimer tried to occupy himself by looking at the people around him.
He saw the nails driven firmly in and finished off with a punch so that there might be no danger of hammering the exquisitely wrought frame. Miss Lee stood regarding her work with a suggestion of pride. "There," she said, "I flatter myself a carpenter could have done no better." "You don't know our typical carpenter," Littimer said. "Here is Tredwell with a telegram. For Miss Lee?
Evidently the girl suspected nothing. She would have liked to have asked a question or two about Mr. Merritt's thumb, but she deemed it prudent not to do so. Dinner came at length, dinner served in the great hall in honour of the recently arrived guest, and set up in all the panoply and splendour that Littimer affected at times. The best plate was laid out on the long table.
The noise went echoing and reverberating along the corridor like a crackling of thunder. A door came open with a click, then a voice demanded to know what was wrong. "Now I guess the fat is in the fire," Christabel said. Henson dropped into a chair and groaned. Lord Littimer, elegantly attired in a suit of silk pyjamas and carrying a revolver in his hand, came coolly down the corridor.
"Then you must play a part yourself," Chris said, gaily. "I am going into Moreton Wells, and Dr. Bell accompanies me. Mr. Henson is not to know that we have gone, and he is not to leave the house for a good hour or so after our departure. What I want is a fair start and the privilege of bringing a guest home to dinner." "Vague, mysterious, and alluring," Littimer said.
A pleasant ride to you." Lord Littimer returned, as he declared, with the spirits and appetite of a schoolboy. All the same, he did not for one moment abandon his usual critical analysis. He rattled on gaily, but he was studying his guest all the same.
She could hear Bell fumbling for the light, she heard the click of the switch, and then she saw the brilliant belt of flame flooding the alcove. Littimer paused and glanced at Bell, the latter looked round the alcove as if seeking for something. "I cannot see the picture here," he said. "If have made a mistake " Littimer stood looking at the speaker with eyes like blazing stars.
Word Of The Day