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Updated: June 20, 2025
The room was a poor tawdry place, with gaudy decorations and a litter of Queenie's finery. In her effort to conquer the pains that possessed her body, the girl had distorted her face almost past recognition. Van came to the bedside directly, placed his hand on her shoulder, and gave her one of his characteristic little shakings. "Queenie, what have you done?" he said. "What's going on?"
The two gentlemen had quite a wrangle over the matter, at the end of which each was settled more firmly in his own opinion than before. When they went upstairs for the night, Doreen came to Queenie's room and demanded to know what her younger sister and Dudley had been talking about so earnestly in the breakfast-room that morning.
And as if to prove the truth of his words he slipped his right arm round Queenie's waist, clasped it tightly, and turned a defiant eye on Simon. "See that?" he said. "Well! that's just where Queenie stops, as long as ever Queenie likes! Eh, Queenie?" The girl, reddening as Brent's arm slipped round her, instinctively laid her free hand on his wrist.
She hurried back to give Roger the receipt, and took him in her arms and rocked him as he sobbed out his ridiculous story: "Oh, mummie, I never would have done it if I hadn't gone mad. You see, mummie, Queenie's such a glorious woman...." But the soul has the keenest ears of any eavesdropper. He sat up suddenly and lifted her arms off his shoulders and looked at her with pale, desperate eyes.
She had drawn these ideals from the English novels she consumed with much enjoyment in early youth from "Queenie's Whim" and "Uncle Max" and the novels of Charlotte Yonge.
"Hem bow goy," suggested Verman eagerly. "Aw ri'," said Herman. "Ow sistuh Queenie, she a growed-up woman; she got a goituh." "Got a what?" "Goituh. Swellin' on her neck grea' big swellin'. She heppin' mammy move in now. You look in de front-room winduh wheres she sweepin'; you kin see it on her." Penrod looked in the window and was rewarded by a fine view of Queenie's goitre.
"There you are," he said. "There's your chance. If you wasn't around the surveyor's shack, you ought to be able to prove it." Van could have proved his alibi at once, by sending around to Queenie's residence. He was nettled into a stubbornness of mind and righteous anger by all this senseless accusation. He did not realize his danger the blackness of the case against him.
"What's Colin's wife doing?" he said. "Queenie? She's driving a field ambulance car in Belgium." "Why isn't she looking after Colin?" "That isn't in Queenie's line. Besides " "Besides what?" "Well, to tell the truth, I don't suppose she'll live with Colin after " "After what?" "Well, after Colin's living with Anne." Jerrold stiffened. He felt the blood rushing to his heart, betraying him.
In Adeline's self-absorption there was a passive innocence, a candor that disarmed you, but Queenie's was insolent and hostile; it took possession of the scene and challenged every comer. "Hallo, Anne!" Colin shouted. "How did you get here?" "Motored down." "I say, have you got a car?" "Only just." "Drove yourself?" "Rather."
He fetched Queenie from Mrs. Appleyard's that morning, and, utterly careless of the sly looks that were cast on him and her, marched her through the market-place to Hawthwaite's office at the police station. To Hawthwaite, keenly interested, he detailed particulars of Queenie's discovery about the typewritten letter and produced her proofs. Hawthwaite took it all in silently.
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