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The wood on the borders of which they were to meet was an extensive forest of willows, fifteen miles long and six broad. It was known by the name of Selwood Forest. There was a celebrated place called the Stone of Egbert, where the meeting was to be held.
But the register " He sped down the room, through a side door, vanished; to return in a moment with a book which he carried to Selwood's side. "Dimambro?" he said. "Recently, then? We shall see." "About the beginning or middle of November," answered Selwood. The manager found the pages: suddenly he pointed to an entry. "See, then!" he exclaimed dramatically. "You are right, sir.
I knew I'd got the street right, and I said, 'I'll find that house if I have to ring every bell in Selwood Terrace, yes', and knock every knocker! Well, I did find it, and then they wouldn't give me your address. They said 'letters would be forwarded, if you please. But I wasn't going to have any more letter business, no thank you! So I said I wouldn't go without the address. It was Mr.
"Of course I wrote at once to Selwood Terrace, as soon as I got home, but I had the wrong number, somehow, and I kept waiting and waiting for an answer, and the only answer I received was the returned letter.
There were the usual evergreen shrubs set in the usual green wood tubs at the entrance; the usual abundance of plate-glass and garish gilt; the usual glimpse, whenever the door opened, of the usual vista of white linen, red plush, and many mirrors; the waiter who occasionally showed himself at the door, napkin in hand, was of the type which Selwood had seen a thousand times under similar circumstances.
"That's what we want to know," said Selwood. "Have you got the real culprit? Are you certain? And how on earth did you get him a man that none of us ever suspected!" "Just so!" answered Davidge with a grim laugh. "As nice and quiet-mannered a man as ever I entered as a candidate for the gallows! It's very often the case, gentlemen. Oh, yes it's true enough!
This man, if he was landlord, or manager, of the Ravenna Hotel, was clearly the person to approach if one wanted information about the Luigi Dimambro who had given the place as his address as recently as November 12th. While he ate and drank, Selwood wondered how to go about his business.
He said good-bye in a gruffly affectionate way to Peggie, patted her shoulder and her head as if she were a child, and followed the two other men out. Peggie, left alone with Selwood, turned to him. There was something half-appealing in her face, and Selwood suddenly drove his hands deep into his pockets, clenched them there, and put a tight hold on himself.
The Ruling Classes Between a quarter-past and half-past eleven he was seated alone at a small table in the restaurant of the Grand Babylon. He had had no news of Mrs. Challice; she had not instantly telegraphed to Selwood Terrace, as he had wildly hoped.
And Selwood cursed himself for a fool for hating to think that these two should be closeted together, for disliking the notion that Barthorpe Herapath was Peggie Wynne's cousin and now, probably, her guardian protector.