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Updated: June 25, 2025
As member of the incorporated society that passes upon the qualifications of candidates it was my pleasure to sit in judgment on him; we raked him fore and aft but, bless you, he stood squarely on his feet and refused to be tripped." "So he came to England to pursue a certain line?" said Lord Ronsdale half to himself.
"May I go, too, aunt?" she repeated. "Why, of course!" interposed a blasé, cynical-appearing young man who had just emerged from the cabin. "Don't know where she wants to go, or what she wants to do; but don't say she can't; really you mustn't, now." "Well, since you insist on spoiling her, Lord Ronsdale "
He spoke in a low voice, almost harshly. Her brow lifted; his face was turned from her. Had he been mindful he might have noted a touch of displeasure on the proud face, that she regarded him as from a vague, indefinite distance. "Lord Ronsdale is a very old friend of my uncle's," she observed severely, "and mine!"
If Rogers had escaped with the paper, John Steele knew Ronsdale might well wonder that the actual truth should have been discovered; he would not, under those circumstances, even be aware of the existence of a witness of the tragedy. But was Lord Ronsdale assuming a manner, meeting subtlety with subtlety? John Steele went on quietly, studying his enemy with close, attentive gaze.
Lord Ronsdale looked toward the bell, hesitated. "I think you had better tell me," he said at last. "If your lordship did not kill the woman if the 'Frisco Pet did not, then who did?" Ronsdale leaned forward just in the least; his eyes seemed to look into the other's as if to ask how much, just what, he had learned. John Steele studied the nobleman with a purpose of his own.
It had altered at my lord's rather quiet and abrupt appearance, crystallized into an impersonal icy light, colder even than the nobleman's own stony stare. He had, perforce, to endure the other's presence and conversation, an undercurrent to the light talk of the girl who seemed, Lord Ronsdale thought, a little maliciously aware of the constraint between the two men, and not at all put out by it.
One that you sought to reject, perhaps, but that wouldn't be discarded?" Mr. Gillett looked at him earnestly. "You don't mean it isn't possible that you knew all the while ?" The white, aristocratic hand of Lord Ronsdale waved. "Let us start at the beginning." "True, your Lordship," Mr. Gillett swallowed.
A number of people applauded. "He has won. Now the reward! What is it to be?" "Not so fast! Here are others." "True!" Ronsdale looked around with his cold smile; his glance vaguely included John Steele and Captain Forsythe. "Count me out!" laughed the latter. "Not in my line, don't you know, since I joined the retired list!" "However, there's Steele," Sir Charles, pipe in hand, remarked.
"You are resourceful, that is all." Lord Ronsdale had now quite recovered himself; he sank back into his chair. "You have, out of fancy, constructed a libelous theory; one that you can not prove; one that you would be laughed at for advancing. A cock-and-bull story about a witness who was not a witness; a paper that doesn't exist, that never existed."
"But he hasn't found him yet; apparently the fellow took alarm, knowing the police agent might want him, and vanished again." Lord Ronsdale moistened his lips; then got up, walked back and forth. A brisker gust, without, and the tin symbol of the Golden Lion over the entrance to the inn swung with a harsh rattle almost around the bar that held it.
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