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Updated: June 13, 2025
"I shall feel a stranger amongst the top-liners of today, my dear," he had said to her in the car on their way to the hall. She had had no answer ready for she had feared he spoke the truth. Yet everyone they had met had tried to show them that Arthur Mackwayte was not forgotten. The stage-door keeper had known him in the days of the old Aquarium and welcomed him by name.
'You lie still, Miss, says I, 'and I'll pop in and tell your pa to come in to you! Well; I went to the old genelmun's room. Empty!" Mrs. Chugg paused to give her narrative dramatic effect. "And where did you find Mr. Mackwayte?" asked the Chief in such a placid voice that Mrs. Chugg cast an indignant glance at him.
"Old friends, new friends," she cried, clapping, her hands like a child, "I love friends. Captaine, here is a very old friend," she said to Strangwise as Mr. Mackwayte and Barbara came into the rooms, "Monsieur Arthur Mackwayte and 'is daughter. I 'ave know Monsieur Arthur almos' all my life. And, Mademoiselle, permit me? I introduce le Captaine Strangwise and 'is friend... what is the name?
"Absolutely!" responded the Chief firmly. "But how will we manage it?" asked Desmond. "Catch the leave-boat to-night and don't worry. You will receive your instructions in due course." "But when shall I see you again?" The Chief chuckled. "Depends entirely on yourself, Okewood," he retorted. "When you're through with your job, I expect. In the meantime, Miss Mackwayte will act between us.
You have only to ask this Miss what was the name? ah! yes, Mackwayte for your box and she will restore it!" "No, no!" Nur-el-Din answered wearily, "you don't understand. This was no burglary. The man who murdered Monsieur Arthur murdered him to get my silver box." "But," objected Desmond, "a silver box! What value has a trifling object like that?
The Chief professed to be very taken aback by this question. "Dear me, didn't I, Okewood?" he answered with eyes laughing, "she's my secretary!" "Miss Mackwayte telephoned to ask if I could go and see, her," said the Chief to Desmond as they motored back to White hall, "Marigold gave me the message just as we were coming out. She asked if I could come this afternoon.
I got a turn when I saw you spread out all over the carpet, old man, I can tell you." Desmond, who had listened with the most eager attention, did not speak for a minute. The sense of failure was strong upon him. How he had bungled it all! "Look here," he said presently in a dazed voice, "you said just now that Matthews mistook Mrs. Malplaquet for Miss Mackwayte.
"You ought to stop behind after your turn and see her, Mac," the stage manager's voice went on evenly. "All right, Jackson! On you go, Mac!" Barbara felt her heart jump. Now for it, daddy! The great curtain mounted majestically and Arthur Mackwayte, deputy turn, stumped serenely on to the stage. It was the slack hour at the Nineveh Hotel.
And Desmond was haunted by the awful conviction that he had at length reached the end of his tether and that nothing could now redeem the ignominious failure he had made of his mission. He had sacrificed Barbara Mackwayte; he had sacrificed Nur-el-Din; he had not even been clever enough to save his own skin.
Mackwayte, after taking four enthusiastic "curtains," stepped off the stage into a perfect pandemonium. He found Fletcher, the stage manager, livid with rage, surrounded by the greater part of the large suite with which the dancer traveled.
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