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Updated: May 1, 2025
But he remained quiet below, and finally we found what we were looking for. In the lining of one of the curtains, near the bottom, a long, ragged cut had been made. "Cut in a hurry, with curved scissors," was Sperry's comment. "Probably manicure scissors." The result was a sort of pocket in the curtain, concealed on the chintz side, which was the side which would hang toward the room.
Almost a new heaven. I stopped and touched Sperry's arm. "This Miss Jeremy did she know Arthur Wells or Elinor? If she knew the house, and the situation between them, isn't it barely possible that she anticipated this thing?" "We knew them," he said gruffly, "and whatever we anticipated, it wasn't this."
At something after eleven Herbert Robinson called me up at my office. He was at Sperry's house, Sperry having been his physician during his recent illness. "I say, Horace, this is Herbert." "Yes. How are you?" "Doing well, Sperry says. I'm at his place now. I'm speaking for him. He's got a patient." "Yes." "You were here last night, he says."
I shall explain the mystery of Arthur Wells's death, and I shall give the solution arrived at by the Neighborhood Club as to the strange communications from the medium, Miss Jeremy, now Sperry's wife. But there are some things I cannot explain. Do our spirits live on, on this earth plane, now and then obedient to the wills of those yet living?
It was, of course, more than possible that the young woman was ill over her dressmaker's bill, rather than suffering from a weak heart or an opera cold. Sperry's ear, however, generally detected the cold. It was not his policy to say unpleasant things especially to young widows who had recently inherited the goods and chattels of their hard-working husbands.
My own library is really the family sitting-room, and a Christmas or so ago my wife presented me with a very handsome phonograph instrument. My reading, therefore, is done to music, and the necessity for putting my book down to change the record at times interferes somewhat with my train of thought. So I entered Sperry's library with appreciation.
I am afraid I was rather excited, for I took Sperry's hat from him, and placed it on the head of a marble bust which I had given my wife on our last anniversary, and Sperry says that I drew a smoking-stand up beside Elinor Wells with great care. I do not know.
He was evidently accustomed to seeing Sperry there, and he did not recognize my wife. But when he had put down the tray and turned to pick up Sperry's overcoat to carry it into the hall, he saw me. The man actually started. I cannot say that he changed color. He was always a pale, anemic-looking individual. But it was a perceptible instant before he stooped and gathered up the coat.
Sperry's Punch-like face reddened. "I've been ashamed of that fact," she went on. "It has made me ashamed to be alive in the bottom of my heart." "Absurd," said Sperry. "Exactly," replied Susan. "Absurd. Even stronger than my shame about it has been my shame that I could be so small as to feel ashamed of it. Now tonight" she was still in her dressing-room.
Suddenly Sperry's face loomed before him and as instantly vanished, only to appear again as certain excuses hitherto explainable became for the first time obscure and suggestive. Then the words of Alice's song rang in his ears and a thrill of joy quivered through him. Again the hide-out repeated the question. "Wouldn't ye, Mr. Thayor?" Thayor turned his head and faced the hide-out.
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