And now, I hope you have some idea in your head besides this notion of my
danger. Be honest! what's in your mind?"
But I now perceived I had also an obstinate ally.
"I have told you," she persisted, "we must find out a little more before
doing anything rash. And I promise not to keep anything back, and to tell
you at once if I find out anything worth knowing. Oh, if you only knew
how I want you to catch those people! As if I could possibly do anything
again to interfere with you!"
What I should have liked to do was to take her hands and say something
very friendly. What I did do was to thank her and assure her I trusted
her, in words that I think she knew were sincere; and arrange to see her
accidentally next day. And then I set off for my sanatorium with thoughts
that were not in the least of the detective type.
It was Jean Rendall's eyes, voice, smile and face--herself from her hair
to her ankles--that filled my mind as I hummed my way home. Unlike the
suspicious stranger, Thomas Sylvester Hobhouse had not been given to
singing, whistling, or humming as he walked, but he broke loose now. I
had instinctively dreaded a too close acquaintance with that girl while
the case was doubtful. I felt in my bones she would be dangerous. Now I
was enraptured to discover she was fatal.
XIV
THE POCKET BOOK
Out of the doctor's smoking-room window you saw nothing but a field or
two of bleached wintry grass, with a glimpse of grey sea beyond and that
iniquitous pebble drive close at hand.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213