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Updated: May 15, 2025
But P. Sybarite had experienced a sudden rush of intelligence to the head was in the throes of that mental process which it is our habit wittily to distinguish by the expressive term, "putting two and two together." Could this, by any chance, be "that boy" who, Mr. Brian Shaynon had been assured, wouldn't know where he'd been when he waked?
So I stuck around, hoping to get hold of Red and make him drunk enough to talk. Curiously enough when Shaynon left, Red came directly to my table and sat down. But by that time I'd had some champagne on top of whiskey and was beginning to know that if I pumped in anything more, it'd be November's party instead of mine.
"I freely admit I have no card of invitation what or whatever." "Then perhaps you'll explain whatcha doing here," suggested the detective, not without affability. "Willingly: I came to find a friend a lady whose name I don't care to bring into this discussion unless Mr. Shaynon has forestalled me." "Mr.
"Simply, I happen to have the whip-hand of the Shaynon conscience," returned P. Sybarite; "I happened to know that Bayard is secretly the husband of a woman notorious in New York under the name of Mrs. Jefferson Inche." "Is that true? Dare I believe ?" Intimations of fears inexpressibly alleviated breathed in her cry. "I believe it." "On what grounds? Tell me!"
If this were all that Shaynon could have trumped up to discomfit him ! He looked that one over with the curling lip of contempt. "I believe it's no crime to enter where you've not been invited, provided you don't force door or window to do it," he observed. "You admit eh?" the manager broke in excitedly "you have no card of invitation, what?"
This minute, as I stand, I'm worth twenty-five thousand more money than I ever hoped to see in this life. It means a lot to me a start toward independence but I'd give every cent of it for some reliable assurance that Brian Shaynon and his son mean you no harm." Surprised and impressed by his unwonted seriousness, the girl instinctively shrank back against the balustrade. "Mr.
I presume, and you permit; I violate your privacy, and you are not angry; I am what I am and you are kind. That is going to be my most gracious memory.... "And now," he broke off sharply, "all the pretty people are going home, and you must, too. May I venture one step farther? Don't permit Bayard Shaynon " "I don't mean to," she told him. "Knowing what I know it's impossible."
"Are you sure?" he queried with his head thoughtfully to one side. "Am I sure?" she repeated, puzzled. "Rather! I tell you, I've finished with the Shaynons for good and all. I never liked either of them never understood what father saw in old Mr. Shaynon to make him trust him the way he did.
"Nothing, as far as I know; unless it was Brian Shaynon's doing " "A-ah!" "You know that old blighter?" "Slightly very slightly." "Friend of yours?" "Not exactly." The accent of P. Sybarite's laugh rendered the disclaimer conclusive. "Glad to hear that," said the boy gravely: "I'd despise to be beholden to any friend of his ..." "Well.... But what's the trouble between you and old man Shaynon?"
Shaynon has mentioned a lady's name," said the manager with a significance lost upon P. Sybarite. "That," he commented acidly, "is much what might have been expected of" here he lifted his shoulders with admirable insolence "Mr. Shaynon." "You saw this lady, then?" the detective put in sharply. "Why yes," P. Sybarite admitted.
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