English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
“No! no!! no!!!” he said, putting his hands over his ears as soon as
the topic was opened. “Now, Vernon, you profess to be scientific in
your investigations. You--you insisted on that in your--er--lecture
under the cedar last night. Now listen to me. I promise to thrash
this out with you--presently. To--to discuss the thing in all its
bearings. But I at least mean to be thorough and careful in my
methods. Give me to-day to examine the case. I must cross-examine the
principal witness--er--alone. Yes. I insist on that. You’ll have the
very best intentions, of course. I don’t doubt it. But you’ll offer
suggestions--unconsciously, perhaps, but you’ll do it.”
“And you?” Vernon replied. “Won’t you put suggestions into the
examinee’s mind, too?”
“Hm! hm! You’ll have to trust me,” Harrison said. “I assure you that
I only want to arrive at the truth of--of the actual facts, you
understand. I want to know what Miss Messenger was doing down there
for three hours or more. And if you want me to discuss the thing with
you, you must let me get at the facts in my own way. I--I make that
a condition. If you won’t agree to it, I shall refuse to discuss the
thing at all.”
“Oh, very well,” Vernon agreed.
And Harrison had gone off to the hotel after breakfast, in the cheerful
state of mind of one who has good reasons to hope for the best.
Miss Messenger received him in the private parlour of the hotel, a room
that evidenced her desperate efforts to alleviate the influence of the
original furniture.
She professed to be completely recovered from the effects of her
adventure, and indeed she displayed no sign of illness. Her engagement
to Robert Fell was, it seemed, an understood thing, and she received
Mr. Harrison’s congratulations with the air proper to the occasion.
Harrison, who had only known her very slightly hitherto, decided in his
own mind that she was a very charming young woman, and came at last to
the purpose of his visit with a slight effect of apology.
“I--I don’t know whether you have heard, Miss Messenger,” he began,
“that we had another visitor in the plantation last night.”
She opened her eyes at that, with a genuine surprise that could not be
mistaken.
“Didn’t Mr. Fell or your father say anything to you about it?” Harrison
continued.
She looked at him with obvious perplexity. “About another visitor?” she
repeated. “No, they haven’t told me anything. I don’t quite understand.”
“I--I’ll explain in a moment,” Harrison said. “There are just one or
two little questions that I’d like to ask you first, if you don’t mind?”
She shook her head with a sigh. “No, I don’t mind,” she said. “I
suppose as a matter of fact you know all about it already?”
“Something,” Harrison agreed, shrewdly guessing at her meaning. “So far
as you and Mr. Fell are concerned at least. But--well--I’ll tell you in
a moment why I want to know--could you say what the time was when you
got to the plantation?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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