Adventure, December 1914 — page 141: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Man With Nine Lives she died. So you see, Miss Dennis, it has a singular interest for me; which explains my anxiety to know how it came into the pos- session of the person who gave it to you. Is that a point on which you think you could get me information, or could you present me to the donor?”’ The girl left the question unanswered. Her thoughts were apparently moving on lines of their own. “Then if this was your mother’s brooch perhaps it’s yours. To whom did she leave it when she died?”’ “T fear that is more than I can tell. you. I am only wondering if the person who gave it to you could put me on the track of its history.” Was it his imagination? Or had her lips blanched, the life and color faded from her face, what might have been a look of terror come into her eyes? “Here is the brooch—it is clearly more yours than mine.” She put the brooch down on the table, speaking, it seemed, with an effort. Taking up her tray, she was once more about to depart when he stopped her. ‘‘You misunderstand me, Miss Dennis. I have not-the slightest intention of con- veying the meaning you suggest. The brooch is not mine; it never was. Please don’t leave it on the table. Take it with you.” “Thank you, Mr. Adair, you’re very good —or at least I suppose you intend to be very good; but after what you have said nothing will induce me to touch that brooch again.” ‘Tray in hand, she paused at the open doorway. “It sounds very silly, but somehow I always felt that there was some- thing about that brooch which I didn’t like, which I was afraid of; but I couldn’t imagine what it was. Now I know. So far as I am concerned you’re perfectly welcome to your mother’s brooch, Mr. Adair.” The girl had vanished; the door was closed. Mr. Adair had risen from his seat and stood staring at the brooch which she had left upon the table. ‘“‘This seems to be a pleasant atmosphere I’m living in—and she’s a really remarkable girl. If she were my ”” He seemed to stop himself with a little jerk, as if con- fused; then substituted another form of words. “If I’d known her longer than I have, and had the honor to be on more inti- mate terms with her, I perhaps might induce 139 her to behave more like a reasonable being. As it Is “‘Hang me, I can’t help feeling that there’s some queer story about that brooch; the way she looked at me, the way she be- haved, the way she left it behind—I can’t help feeling that if she had chosen she could have thrown a good deal of light upon its history. She’s upsetting me. She’s getting on my nerves in a way I don’t understand.” He thrust his fingers into his waistcoat pockets—some men have a trick of fidgeting with their fingers when they need a safety- valve; when he withdrew them, in the fingers of his right hand was a piece of pasteboard. It was not his custom. to change for dinner. He felt that if he were to sit down to the meal in a dinner-jacket, the fact that Winifred Dennis was his general servant would worry him still more; so it chanced that he was still wear- ing the suit which he had had on when he encountered the little lady coming down the lane as he went up. The piece of paste- board which he had discovered in his waist- coat pocket was the card she had given him. He glanced at it. “Mrs. Bishop Guy? Who on earth—— Oh, of course. She asked me to go and see her. What’s the address? Redcliffe Man- sions? That’s not so very far off. Why shouldn’t I go and see her tonight, now? It isn’t late. I can only find her out, or she can refuse to see me. “T don’t believe it’s ordinary curiosity —TI don’t think I’m that sort of man. But I’ve reached a point at which if I don’t find out something from some one about Winifred Dennis, and her mother, and the Dovecote generally, something will- crack. “T can’t ask her; I simply can’t. If I did she wouldn’t answer. “But I’m going to learn something about Winifred Dennis before I turn into bed tonight if I can, if I have to go to Redcliffe Mansions in search of it. What’s more, T’ll start at once.’ And he started. The brooch he left upon the table. CHAPTER XI IN REDCLIFFE MANSIONS ME: BISHOP GUY was in, and Mr. Bishop Guy also; both of them were willing to see him. They had a small flat up on the third floor; the sitting-room into DOOK C©