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Updated: May 9, 2025
I was alone in the world, and he, my father, whom I had never thought to see.... We met at his hotel, the Pless. He wanted me to come and live with him, said that he was growing old and lonely and needed a daughter's love and care. He told me that he had made a fortune in America and was amply able to provide for us both.
"By the same means, I daresay, that you employ," said he. For a moment I was confounded. Then my wits came to the rescue. "I see. Through the dungeon. You do know the castle well, Mr. Pless." "It is a cobwebby, unlovely passage," said he, brushing the dirt and cobwebs from his trousers. My own appearance was conspicuously immaculate, but I brushed in unison, just the same. "Grewsome," said I.
"Yes.... I proposed going there at once, but it was late and we were dining at the Pless with an acquaintance, a Mr. Mulready, whom I now recall as a former intimate of George Calendar. To our surprise we saw Calendar and his daughter at a table not far from ours. Mr.
Smart, or have you flesh and blood mediums here who roam about in white night dresses to study the moods of the moon from the dizziest ramparts?" I started. What indiscretion had the Countess been up to? "I don't quite understand you, Mr. Pless," I said, with a politely blank stare. Confound his insolence! He winked at me!
I prefer to think of him as Mr. Pless. If you don't mind, Elsie, I'll try to eradicate him thoroughly from my system as Pless before I take him on in any other form of evil. No, I don't want to know his name at present, nor do I care a hang who it was he married. Silly notion, I suppose, but I mean what I say."
They used my study for purposes of their own, and glared at me when I presumed to intrude upon their privacy. Mr. Pless took possession of this room, and here received all sorts of secret operatives engaged in the task of unearthing the former Mrs. Pless.
"Pless us!" said Betty; "put, if she has lost her purse, who shall pay for the coach, and what will become of our tinners?" Angelina silenced Betty Williams with peremptory dignity. Mrs. Porett, who was a good and sensible woman, and who had been interested for our heroine, by her good-nature to the little French boy, followed Miss Warwick as she left the room.
O'Halloran tells me that she never thinks of writing memoirs at all. At the Potsdam palace it was different. We all wrote memoirs. Eugenia of Pless did, and Cecilia did, and I did, and all of us. We all had our memoir books with little silver padlocks and keys.
"Certainly," I said, and resumed my calculations. He got the impression that I was annoyed by the interruption. "I beg your pardon," he said. "What security can you give, Mr. Pless?" I demanded in a very business-like way. "Oh, you Americans!" he cried, his face beaming with premature relief." You will pin us down, I see. I do not wonder that you are so rich. I shall give you my personal note, Mr.
Kirkwood, turning on one heel, beheld hesitant upon the threshold a diminutive figure in the livery of the Pless pages. "Mr. Kirkwood?" Kirkwood nodded. "Gentleman to see you, sir." Kirkwood nodded again, smiling if somewhat perplexed. Encouraged, the child advanced, proffering a silver card-tray at the end of an unnaturally rigid forearm.
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