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Updated: June 7, 2025
"There's a matter I want to discuss with you," responded Mr. Wynne. "It may be that we can reach some sort of of an agreement about this, and if you don't mind " Claflin went up the steps, Mr. Wynne ushered him in and closed the door behind him. Three minutes later Mr.
Meurig Wynne, "y Vicare du," or "the black Vicar," as he was called by the country people, in allusion to his black hair and eyes, and also to his black apparel, sat in his musty study, as he had done every evening for the last twenty-five years, poring ever his old books, and occasionally jotting down extracts therefrom.
However we look at it, whoever may have been Haney's accomplice, that point seems settled." "Or else Haney lied," declared Mr. Wynne flatly. "If Haney came here alone, killed this old man and stole the diamonds there would be none of these questions, would there?" Mr. Birnes, who had listened silently, arose suddenly and left the room. Mr.
6 February. The queer epidemic of "gathered fingers" continues here. Having two I am in the fashion. They make one awkward, and more idle than ever. A lot of people come in and out of my sitting-room to "cheer me up," and everyone wants me to tell their fortune. Mrs. Wynne and Mr. Bevan are still at Baku. Last night I went to Prince Orloff's box to hear Lipkofskaya in "Faust."
Wynne turned slightly in his chair and regarded the diamond expert with an expression of astonishment on his face. The beady black eyes were all aglitter with the effort of repression, and some intangible message flashed in them. "In the first place," resumed Mr. Wynne, as if there had been no interruption, "Mr. Kellner here " "Don't!" the expert burst out again desperately. "Don't!
And whether Hugh loves her or not I would I knew. Mistress Wynne does but laugh and say, 'Lord bless us! they all love her! Hugh is, as to some things, reticent, and of Darthea likes so little to speak that I am led to think it is a serious business for him; and if it be so, what can I but go! for how could I come between him and a woman he loved? Never, surely. Why is life such a tangle?
What could it mean, but one thing? Somehow, somewhere, Wynne had vanished. It was incredible, unbelievable, and yet there was the evidence of their own eyes. From that spot onward the ground was wholly free of the footprints of any man, woman, or child. No mark disturbed the sodden mud of it.
Warmer faces were these that swam before him, faces fuller of the joy of life. The devil take all stuck-up little saints! About eleven o'clock, when the great ballet of Venetia was over, Leonard hurried round to the stage-door, saluted the door-keeper with a friendly smile and a sixpence, and sent in his card to Miss Gladys Wynne, on the chance that she might have no supper engagement.
"Old Wynne has gone, and no mistake," said Tony West, as the men began slowly to retrace their steps across the marshlands, their faces in the pale light of the early morning looking white and drawn with the excitement and strain of the night. "What to make of it all, I don't know.
Several of these stories will be unfamiliar to the general reader, and I am specially glad to observe in this volume two little-known masterpieces, "The Little Room" by Madelene Yale Wynne, and "Aunt Sanna Terry," by Landon R. Dashiell. Mr.
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