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Updated: June 9, 2025
"And he needs a doctor," Thayor said, suddenly looking up. "You will, of course, stay until he is out of danger?" "No, I must return to New York," Sperry protested. "I feel I have already imposed on you and your good wife's hospitality; besides, there are my patients waiting. It is neither right nor fair to my assistant, Bainbridge. His last letter was rather savage," laughed Sperry.
We tried other things, but we had been spoiled. Our Kipling winter was a failure. We read a play or two, with Sperry's wife reading the heroine, and the rest of us taking other parts. She has a lovely voice, has Mrs. Sperry. But it was all stale and unprofitable, after the Wells affair. With Herbert on a lecture tour on spirit realism, and Mrs.
Sperry brought me a stick from the dressing-room, and with its aid succeeded in bringing out the two articles which were instrumental in starting us on our brief but adventurous careers as private investigators. One was a leather razor strop, old and stiff from disuse, and the other a wet bath sponge, now stained with blood to a yellowish brown. "She is lying, Sperry," I said.
"Dunno as I ever see a neater job," remarked a big fellow a former doubter peering over the shoulders of the crowd, intent on the doctor's handling of the wounded arm. "Yes yes " drawled the Clown. "Goll! seems 'ough he knowed jest whar to take hold." "There," said Sperry, as he gave a final adjustment to the improvised bandage. "You had better get him to bed."
"'That will do. Where shall it be sent? "He paid the money, wrote the address, and, bowing, left the studio. Twenty-five dollars just paid for the frame. Who had bought my picture? I looked at the card: 'PARKER J. SPERRY, 'Yankee Pie Depot, '126 Street." "Did you ever paint again?" "Once only. I made a portrait of my sister-in-law, and sent it to her in a gorgeous frame.
There was no direct reply to this, but instead: "He found them when he was looking for his razorstrop. They were in the top of a closet. His revolver was there, too. He went back and got it. It was terrible." There was a profound silence, followed by a slight exclamation from Sperry as he leaped to his feet.
The latter recognizing him, turned to his companion carelessly, said, "Here's one of 'em," and was going away when Sperry stopped him. "We were expecting a young man." "Yes," said the driver, impatiently, "and there he is, I reckon." "We don't mean the new expressman," said the minister, smiling blandly, "but a young man who"
He is smiling, too, not as he smiled on Miss Sperry, but more warmly, with more that is personal in it. I took his arm in a daze. The lights were dimmer than I thought; nothing was really bright except his smile. It seemed to change the world for me.
They did everything they could think of, all the time listening for Suzanne Gautier's return; filled the second empty chamber of the revolver, dragged the body out of the hall and washed the carpet, and called Doctor Sperry, knowing that he was at Mrs. Dane's and could not come. Clara had only a little time, and with the letters in her handbag she started down the stairs.
Perhaps she saw in him a method of weaning her cousin from traffic with the powers of darkness. She said something about tea, and went out. Sperry looked across at the girl and smiled. "Shall I tell them?" he said. "I want very much to have them know." He stood up, and with that unconscious drama which actuates a man at a crisis in his affairs, he put a hand on her shoulder.
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