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Updated: June 16, 2025
Reddon responded to "Milly's Macedonian cry," as he described her telegram, with an admirable promptness, arriving the next day "with one clean shirt and no collars," he confessed. Milly took him at once to the dingy shop. "Now, Sam," she said to him in her persuasive way, "I want you to make this into the nicest little patisserie you ever saw in Paris. Vrai chic, you know!"
So it was agreed that while Ernestine attended to the numerous details of the preparations in Chicago, Milly should make a hurried trip abroad consult with her friend, Madame Catteau, and secure among other things a competent pastry-cook and a few good-looking girls for waitresses. Milly enjoyed her trip immensely. She had an air of importance about her that Sam Reddon described as "diplomatic."
Milly thought they seemed forlorn and pitied them. Mrs. Reddon was a little pale New Englander, apparently as fragile as a china cup, and in her arms was a mussy and peevish child. She confided to Milly that she expected another child, and Milly, whose one ever present terror was the fear of becoming inconveniently a mother, was quite horrified.
"I'll have to admit it. The blood really belonged to 'Rast Little. Boys, the seegars are on me." "No, they're on me," exclaimed Tom Reddon, producing a box of Perfectos. "But, Miss Banks, you are wanted in Chicago," insisted Anderson. Reddon interrupted him. "Right you are, my dear Sherlock, and I'm going to take her there as soon as I can. It's what I came East for."
"Well," he submitted dolefully, "she can't drink that red ink you mistakenly bought for wine, my dear.... I'll just fetch a bottle of something drinkable." "Hurry then! Déjeuner is quite ready." "You see," she observed placidly as Reddon departed, "he takes every excuse to escape his work and make a holiday. It wasn't altogether you, my dear!" "It's so human!" "It's so Sam."
The hang-out, as Sam calls it, isn't large, but there's always room somehow." Milly demurred at first, but later when Marion Reddon was obliged to depart hurriedly for the south because one of the children was threatened with tuberculosis, she gratefully accepted the offer of the Reddons' apartment during their absence.
The men were young, well dressed and handsome; the woman a beauty of the most dashing type. Tinkletown's best spellers quivered with excitement. "Ladies and gentlemen," said Miss Banks, her voice trembling with eagerness, "let me introduce my friends, Mrs. Farnsworth, Mr. Farnsworth, and Mr. Reddon. They have driven over to attend the spelling-match."
It is doubtful if either of the girls mentioned the name of big, handsome Tom Reddon Tom, who had rowed in his college crew; but it is safe to say that both of them thought of him more than once those long, soft, autumn nights nights when Tinkletown's beaux were fairly tumbling over themselves in the effort to make New York life seem like a flimsy shadow in comparison. Elsie Banks
Whoever has been slew was taken away last night in the sleigh. S'posin it was Mr. Reddon! Well, consarn it, ain't he got a body same as anybody else? We've just got to find somebody's body, that's all. We've got to prove the corpus deelicti. Drive up, Bill!" With a perseverance that spoke well for the detective's endurance, but ill for his intelligence, the "bob" sped along aimlessly.
Elsie Banks was to return in September from Honolulu, and they were to be married in the fall. Wicker Bonner eagerly looked for the confusion of love in her eyes, but none appeared. That night she told him, in reply to an impulsive demand, that she did not care for Reddon, that she never had known the slightest feeling of tenderness for him.
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