Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 17, 2025
His sudden appearance had disconcerted her. "I thought you were in Chicago, Mr. Dane!" she exclaimed at last. "My plans were altered at the last moment," he told her. "No, I won't sit down, thanks," he added, waving away the chair towards which Philip had pointed. "As a matter of fact, I haven't been out of New York. I decided to wait and hear your news, Miss Wenderley."
"Don't let us talk about it," she begged. "You must come and see me, won't you, Miss Wenderley? Philip will tell you where I live. Are you going back to England at once?" "I haven't made up my mind yet," the girl replied, with a slight frown. "It just depends." Elizabeth glanced at the little clock upon her table, and Philip threw away his cigarette and came forward.
In response to his knock they were bidden to enter, and Elizabeth, who was lying on a couch whilst a maid was busy preparing her costume for the next act, held out her hand with a little welcoming smile. "I am so glad to see you, Miss Wenderley," she said cordially. "Philip, bring Miss Wenderley over here. You'll forgive my not getting up, won't you?
Philip sat as though turned to stone. Beatrice remained in the middle of the room, her fingers clasping the back of a chair. Mr. Dane, hat in hand, had entered. "Good morning, Miss Wenderley!" he said. "Good morning, Mr. Ware!" Philip said nothing. He had a horrible feeling that this was some trap. Beatrice at first could only stare at the unexpected visitor.
"There's the deposit note," he said, "Twenty thousand pounds to the joint or separate credit of Beatrice Wenderley and Douglas Romilly, on demand. The money's there still. I haven't touched it." She gripped the paper in her fingers. The sight of the figures seemed to fascinate her. Then she looked around. "How can you afford to live in a place like this, then?" she demanded suspiciously.
"We may look for the pleasure of another visit from you, then?" Philip enquired politely. The detective faced them from the doorway. "Sir," he said to Philip, "I admire your nerve, and I admire the nerve of your old sweetheart, Miss Wenderley. I am afraid I cannot promise you, however, that this will be my last visit." The door closed behind him.
Now get on with it, then, and I'll give you the surprise of your life. What are you here for?" "I am here to arrest that man, Philip Romilly, for the murder of his cousin, Douglas Romilly, Miss Wenderley," Dane announced gravely. "I am sorry." Beatrice threw her head back and laughed hysterically. "You'll never write a play like it, Philip!" she exclaimed. "There never was anything like it before.
"That so?" the detective observed, with quiet sarcasm. "You seem to have a knack of making friends pretty easily, Miss Wenderley." "It is not your business if I have," she snapped. "Well, we'll pass that, then," he conceded. "I haven't quite finished with you yet, though. There are just one or two more points I am going to put before you and this gentleman who is not Mr.
"Yet you come here to his rooms early in the evening, you stay here, you go to the theatre with him the same night, you go on to supper at Churchill's and stay there till three o'clock in the morning, you are here with him again at nine o'clock at breakfast time. A stranger, Miss Wenderley? Think again! A story like this might do for Scotland Yard. It won't do for us out here."
Once more he felt the rest of her presence. "You must let me see something of you tomorrow, Philip," she said. "Telephone, will you? Good night, Miss Wenderley." The maid, who had just returned, held the door open. Philip glanced back over his shoulder. Elizabeth blew him a kiss, a gesture which curiously enough brought a frown to Beatrice's face.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking