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Updated: June 13, 2025


Mackwayte thought how singularly graceful she looked as she stood, very slim, looking at him whimsically across the dinner-table, the receiver in her hand. Then a strange thing happened. Barbara quickly put the receiver down on the desk and clasped her hands together, her eyes opened wide in amazement. "Daddy," she cried, "it's the Palaceum... the manager's office... they want you urgently!

He went over to the desk and picked up the receiver. "Mackwayte speaking!" he said, with a touch of stage majesty in his voice. Instantly a voice broke in on the other end of the wire, a perfect torrent of words. "Mackwayte? Ah! I'm glad I caught you at home. Got your props there? Good.

His eyes were shining and his manner was rather tense. "Des," he asked; "what do you make of it? From what Strangwise let fall in the library here tonight, it seems probable that Miss Mackwayte, instead of coming here to see you as she was told or she may have called during your absence went to the Dyke Inn and saw Nur-el-Din.

"Maybe not," retorted his brother, "but both Strangwise and Nur-el-Din know that the jewel was originally entrusted to her charge. Nur-el-Din did not, it is true, tell Miss Mackwayte what the silver box contained but the latter may have found out, at least the dancer might suppose so; while Strangwise might think the same.

Mackwayte modestly. "But if they like you, daddy, if it goes down... what will you give them, daddy?" Mr. Mackwayte scratched his chin. "It's the biggest theatre in London" he mused, "It'll have to be broad effects... and they'll want something slap up modern, my dear, I'm thinking..." "No, no, daddy" his daughter broke in vehemently "they want the best.

"Why are you here, then?" came back in that hard, uncompromising voice. Desmond was about to reply; but the other checked him. "I know all you have to say," he resumed, "but no excuse you can offer can explain away the disappearance of Miss Mackwayte. Your orders were formal to remain at home. You saw fit to disobey them and thereby, maybe, sent Miss Mackwayte to her death.

Yet all the while the little gimlet that men call conscience was patiently drilling its way through the wall of obduracy behind which Desmond's wounded pride had taken cover. Rail as he would against his hard treatment at the hands of the Chief, he knew perfectly well that he could never wash his hands of his mission until Barbara Mackwayte had been brought back into safety.

"I put him off until six o'clock," replied the Chief, "he knows Nur-el-Din, and he may be able to give Marigold some pointers about this affair. You're off to see Miss Mackwayte now, I suppose. You know where she's staying? Good. Well, I'll say good-bye, Okewood. I shan't see you again..." "You won't see me again? How do you mean, sir?" "Because you're going back to France!"

He left the military policeman at the gate and tore off like mad up the drive while Strangwise and the others jumped into the car and were away before you could say 'knife. The military, policeman actually cranked up the car for them! "When Matthews burst into the library with the story of you and Strangwise and Miss Mackwayte having gone off for help in our only car, I knew we had been sold.

She ran on about Mackwayte in the old days, his kindliness to everyone, his pretty wife, without a shadow of an attempt to avoid an unpleasant topic. Desmond began to believe that not only did the girl have nothing to do with the tragedy but that actually she knew nothing about it. "Did you see the newspapers yesterday?" he asked suddenly. "My friend," said Nur-el-Din, shaking her curls at him.

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