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Updated: June 24, 2025
The question would now absorb them, and they would enjoy their fun too much to wish to share it with the crowd. They appeared to have caught instinctively Vereker's peculiar notion of fun. Their intellectual pride, however, was not such as to make them indifferent to any further light I might throw on the affair they had in hand.
He had hold of the tail of something; he would pull hard, pull it right out. He pumped me dry on Vereker's strange confidence and, pronouncing me the luckiest of mortals, mentioned half a dozen questions he wished to goodness I had had the gumption to put. Yet on the other hand he didn't want to be told too much it would spoil the fun of seeing what would come.
The alcalde, who acted as the colonel's agent and was largely in his confidence, being an acquaintance of many years' standing, produced a copy of Colonel Vereker's will for my inspection, assuring me that this had been drawn up during his last visit to the State capital, while all his affairs were in the most perfect order, "the poor gentleman," as the alcalde expressed it, "being under the opinion that he would not have long to live," a presentiment of death I have often found many people to have had.
Certainly that reserve was something of a shock to me certainly it puzzled me the more I thought of it, though I tried to explain it, with moments of success, by the supposition of exalted sentiments, of superstitious scruples, of a refinement of loyalty. Certainly it added at the same time hugely to the price of Vereker's secret, precious as that mystery already appeared.
He looked at me like a dim phrenological bust. "The information ?" "Vereker's secret, my dear man the general intention of his books: the string the pearls were strung on, the buried treasure, the figure in the carpet." He began to flush the numbers on his bumps to come out. "Vereker's books had a general intention?" I stared in my turn. "You don't mean to say you don't know it?"
I thought for a moment he was playing with me. "Mrs. Deane knew it; she had it, as I say, straight from Corvick, who had, after infinite search and to Vereker's own delight, found the very mouth of the cave. Where IS the mouth? He told after their marriage and told alone the person who, when the circumstances were reproduced, must have told you.
I drew him to a sofa, I lighted another cigarette and, beginning with the anecdote of Vereker's one descent from the clouds, I gave him an account of the extraordinary chain of accidents that had in spite of it kept me till that hour in the dark. I told him in a word just what I've written out here.
He lacked all the same the light hand with which Corvick had gilded the gingerbread he laid on the tinsel in splotches. Six months later appeared "The Right of Way," the last chance, though we didn't know it, that we were to have to redeem ourselves. Written wholly during Vereker's sojourn abroad, the book had been heralded, in a hundred paragraphs, by the usual ineptitudes.
Vereker's Wildfire, I sez, 'I'd know 'im anywheers, I sez; 'but what beats me, I sez, 'there ain't Mr. Vereker. So down I comes, rubs down the 'oss, takes the lanthorn an' is about to start lookin' for you when in you comes an' wi' you this poor lass so wot I says now is, Lord, Mr. Vereker, sir, 'ere 's a go, sure-ly!" "It is!" said I. "What of the girl, poor soul?" "All right, Mr.
If he has got something that won't go in a letter he hasn't got the thing. Vereker's own statement to me was exactly that the 'figure' would go in a letter." "Well, I cabled to George an hour ago two words," said Gwendolen. "Is it indiscreet of me to inquire what they were?" She hung fire, but at last she brought them out. "'Angel, write." "Good!" I exclaimed.
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