Detective and mystery stories; Stone, Fleming (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“Begging the question,” laughed Hendricks, but Mr. Mortimer said:
“Not at all. Hanlon is right. If he has any secret means of guidance,
it is up to us to discover it. But I hold that he cannot have, or
it would have been discovered by some of the eager observers. We had
thousands looking on to-day. There must have been some one clever enough
to suspect the deceit, if deceit there were.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mortimer,” Hanlon spoke quietly. “I made no
mystery of my performance; I had no confederate, no paraphernalia. All
there was to see could be seen by all. You willed me; I followed your
will. That is all.”
The simple manner and pleasant demeanor of the young man greatly
attracted Eunice, who smiled at him kindly.
“I came here very sceptical,” she admitted; “and even now I
can’t feel entirely convinced--”
“Well, I can!” declared Aunt Abby. “I am willing to own it, too.
These people who really believe in your sincerity, Mr. Hanlon, and
refuse to confess it, make me mad! I wish you’d give an exhibition in
New York.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, madam, but this is my last
performance.”
“Good gracious why?” Aunt Abby looked curiously at him.
“I have good reasons,” Hanlon smiled. “You may learn them later,
if you care to.”
“I do. How can I learn them?”
“Read the Newark Free Press next Monday.”
“Oh!” and Eunice had an inspiration--a premonition of the truth.
“May I speak to you alone a minute, Mr. Hanlon?”
She got out of the car and walked a few steps with the young man, who
politely accompanied her.
They paused a short distance away, and held a brief but animated
conversation. Eunice laughed gleefully, and it was plain to be seen her
charming smiles played havoc with Hanlon’s reserved demeanor. Soon he
was willingly agreeing to something she was proposing and finally they
shook hands on it.
They returned to the car; he assisted Eunice in, and then he told Mr.
Mortimer they had stayed as long as was permissible and were being
eagerly called back to the committee in charge of the day’s programme.
“That’s so,” said Mortimer. “I begged off for a few minutes.
Good-by, all.” He raised his hat and hurried away after Hanlon.
“Well,” said Hendricks as they started homeward, “what did you
persuade him to do, Eunice? Give a parlor exhibition for you?”
“The boy guessed nearly right the very first time!” cried Eunice,
gleefully; “it was all a fake, and he’s coming to our house Sunday
afternoon to tell how he did it. It’s all coming out in the paper on
Monday.”
“My good land!” and Aunt Abby sank back in her seat, utterly
disgusted.
Chapter IV The Emburys
“And that’s my last word on the subject.”
Embury lighted one cigarette from the stub of another, and deposited
the stub in the ash-tray at his elbow. It was Sunday afternoon, and the
peculiar relaxedness of that day of rest and gladness had somewhat worn
on the nerves of both Sanford and Eunice.
Aunt Abby was napping, and it was too early yet to look for their
expected visitor, Hanlon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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