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Updated: May 13, 2025
I am inclined to believe, too, that Strangwise, before going over to the Mill House last night, carried off Miss Mackwayte somewhere with the aid of Rass and Marie, who were evidently his accomplices, in order to find out from her where the jewel is concealed..." "But Miss Mackwayte cannot know what has become of it," objected Desmond.
"The murder of Monsieur Mackwayte," said Nur-el-Din, and her tears broke forth anew. "I have read of this in the newspapers," said Desmond. "I remember you told me he was a friend of yours." Briefly, with many sobs, the dancer told him of the silver box which she had entrusted to Barbara Mackwayte's charge.
Now, old Mackwayte stood at her elbow in his rig-out as an old London bus-driver in the identical, characteristic clothes which he had worn for this turn for the past 25 years. He was far too old a hand to show any nervousness he might feel at the ordeal before him. He was chatting in undertones in his gentle, confidential way to the stage manager.
Now that his mental freshness was somewhat restored, his thoughts began to busy themselves again with the disappearance of Barbara Mackwayte. He was conscious of a guilty feeling towards Barbara. It was not so much the blame he laid upon himself for not being at the Mill House to meet her when she came as the sense that he had been unfaithful to the cause of her murdered father.
Marigold's lips and he murmured to himself: "Our old friend is looking very prosperous just now. I wonder what he's up to?" Mr. Marigold didn't miss much. The detective made his way to the Chief's office. Barbara Mackwayte, in a simple black frock with white linen collar and cuffs, was at her old place in the ante-room. A week had elapsed since the murder, and the day before, Mr.
Tragedy!!! The Epitome of London Life. Universally Acclaimed as the Greatest Portrayer of London Characters since the late Chas. Dickens. In Tremendous Demand for Public Dinners. The Popular Favorite. A Few Dates still Vacant. 23, Laleham Villas, Seven Kings. 'Phone" and so on. But only professionally did Mr. Mackwayte thus blow his own trumpet, and then in print alone.
"Chief..." Desmond broke in, but again that inexorable voice interposed. "I will hear nothing from you," said the Chief, "it is a rule of mine never to interfere with my men in their work or to see them until their mission has been successfully completed. When you have found Miss Mackwayte I will hear you but not before!" Desmond drew himself up.
I'm going to send you in my place, Okewood. I've got a conference with the head of the French Intelligence at three, and the Lord knows when I shall get away. I've a notion that you and Miss Mackwayte will work very well together." "Certainly," said Desmond, "she struck me as being a very charming and clever girl. Now I know the source of your information about my movements last night!"
Mackwayte always gazed on this tall, handsome daughter of his with amazement as the great miracle of his life. He looked at her now fondly and thought how.... how distinguished, yes, that was the word, she looked in the trim blue serge suit in which she went daily to her work at the War Office.
Mackwayte would require for the sketches he would play that evening. In the middle of it all the throbbing of a car echoed down the quiet road outside. Then there came a ring at the front door. At half-past nine that night, Barbara found herself standing beside her father in the wings of the vast Palaceum stage. Just at her back was the little screened-off recess where Mr.
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