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Updated: May 21, 2025
Heatherbloom belonged in the rear, and, no doubt, the prince had continued to be a daily, or twice, or three-times-a-day visitor to Miss Van Rolsen's elegant, if somewhat stiff, reception rooms. Now, however, he would come no more until he came finally to "take with him the bride "
A fugitive, a logical candidate for the prison cell! Ironical situation! Even now he heard a voice at his elbow. "Mr. Heatherbloom!" Some one spoke suddenly to him and he wheeled with abrupt swift fierceness. "Well, are you going to eat me up?" the voice laughed. He looked into the pert face of Jane the maid with the provoking nose who had been at Miss Van Rolsen's.
The scope of his mental visuality no longer included the figure of the agent from the private detective bureau. An anxiety more poignant moved him; his thoughts centered on that other matter the cause of Miss Van Rolsen's apprehensions the while those emotions that had held him a listener behind the curtain in her library again stirred in his breast.
Of course; Miss Van Rolsen's millions were at the command of the secret-service bureau; his description had been telegraphed far and wide. And when it should be fruitful of results, what would become of his theory? Nevertheless, he would go on, while he could, to the last. If he tried to explain they would consider it but a paltry blind to cover his own criminality.
The caller's voice was courtesy itself although he probably but half-credited Miss Van Rolsen's protestations in the matter. People liked to complain of the press and newspaper notoriety, when in their hearts, perhaps, they were not so displeased to be in that terrible lime-light; especially when the person associated with them happened to be a count, or a duke, or a prince.
"I can cable aunt every day so there can be no cause for worry and she will only be the more pleased when we actually do arrive." Again the plural! And once more that prophetic picture which included Mr. Heatherbloom within the pale of the venerable and austere Miss Van Rolsen's jubilation. He looked embarrassed but said nothing.
Heatherbloom, retracing his footsteps to Miss Van Rolsen's, betrayed a rather vacillating and uncertain manner, as if he were somewhat reluctant to go into, or to approach too near the old-fashioned stiff and stately house. For fear of meeting some one, or a dread of some sudden encounter? With Miss Van Rolsen's niece? So far he had not seen her since that first day.
"On the contrary, I attach every importance to it. Has it not occurred to you there was a little collusion in this matter of the lost dog?" "Collusion?" Miss Van Rolsen's accents expressed incredulity. "You must be wrong. Why, the young woman wouldn't even accept the reward. And it was not a small one!" "Two hundred or so dollars, ma'am! Not her stake!" he murmured satirically.
"Indeed?" she retorted, surprised at such gallantry from one who had heretofore not deigned to pay her compliments. "I'll have to tell my husband about you." Playfully. "But how are things at Miss Van Rolsen's? Anything new?" Mr. Heatherbloom murmured something about the customary routine; then, even as he spoke, became conscious of a sudden new disconcerting circumstance.
He could hardly at first believe the evidence of his senses, for the laugh, coming back to him in the night, was that of the woman for whom he had procured employment at Miss Van Rolsen's. He could have sworn to the fact now. And the man whose countenance he had so briefly seen was, no doubt, of her own nationality a Russian! Involuntarily, without realizing what he did, Mr.
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