My friend the murderer, and other mysteries and adventuresDoyle, Arthur Conan
General
My friend the murderer, and other mysteries and adventures
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Detective and mystery stories, English
“I won’t go at all,” said I; “I’d like to awfully, but I have to plant
those ferns Sol got me. You had better walk. It is only three miles,
and young Bayliss can be sent over with the basket of provisions.”
“You’ll come, Jack?” said Bob.
Here was another impediment. The Lieutenant had twisted his ankle
yesterday. He had not mentioned it to anyone at the time; but it was
beginning to pain him now.
“Couldn’t do it, really,” said Jack. “Three miles there and three back.”
“Come on. Don’t be lazy,” said Bob.
“My dear fellow,” answered the Lieutenant, “I have had walking enough
to last me the rest of my life. If you had seen how that energetic
general of ours bustled me along from Cabul to Candahar, you’d
sympathize with me.”
“Leave the veteran alone,” said Mr. Nicholas Cronin.
“Pity the war-worn soldier,” remarked Bob.
“None of your chaff,” said Jack. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he
added, brightening up. “You let me have the trap, Bob, and I’ll drive
over with Nell as soon as she has finished planting her ferns. We can
take the basket with us. You’ll come, won’t you, Nell?”
“All right,” said I. And Bob having given his assent to the
arrangement, and everybody being pleased, except Mr. Solomon Barker,
who glared with mild malignancy at the soldier, the matter was finally
settled, and the whole party proceeded to get ready, and finally
departed down the avenue.
* * * * *
It was an extraordinary thing how that ankle improved after the last
of the troop had passed round the curve of the hedge. By the time the
ferns were planted and the gig got ready Jack was as active and lively
as ever he was in his life.
“You seem to have got better very suddenly,” I remarked, as we drove
down the narrow winding country lane.
“Yes,” said Jack. “The fact is, Nell, there never was anything the
matter with me. I wanted to have a talk with you.”
“You don’t mean to say you would tell a lie in order to have a talk
with me?” I remonstrated.
“Forty,” said Jack, stoutly.
I was too lost in contemplation of the depths of guile in Jack’s nature
to make any further remark. I wondered whether Elsie would be flattered
or indignant were anyone to offer to tell so many lies in her behalf.
“We used to be good friends when we were children, Nell,” remarked my
companion.
“Yes,” said I, looking down at the rug which was thrown over my knees.
I was beginning to be quite an experienced young lady by this time,
you see, and to understand certain inflections of the masculine voice,
which are only to be acquired by practice.
“You don’t seem to care for me now as much as you did then,” said Jack.
I was still intensely absorbed in the leopard’s skin in front of me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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