The Lock and Key Library: The most interesting stories of all nations: American
General
The Lock and Key Library: The most interesting stories of all nations: American
Detective and mystery stories; Short stories, American
I recollected the detail of introduction in time, and turned aside
to look for my host. I found him at last. I begged him to present
me to the two ladies, pointing them out to him at the same time.
“Yes—uh—by all means—uh,” replied his Excellency with a pleasant
smile. He evidently had no idea of my name, which was not to be
wondered at.
“I am Lord Cairngorm,” I observed.
“Oh—by all means,” answered the Ambassador with the same
hospitable smile. “Yes—uh—the fact is, I must try and find out
who they are; such lots of people, you know.”
“Oh, if you will present me, I will try and find out for you,” said
I, laughing.
“Ah, yes—so kind of you—come along,” said my host. We threaded
the crowd, and in a few minutes we stood before the two ladies.
“’Lowmintrduce L’d Cairngorm,” he said; then, adding quickly to me,
“Come and dine to-morrow, won’t you?” he glided away with his
pleasant smile and disappeared in the crowd.
I sat down beside the beautiful girl, conscious that the eyes of
the duenna were upon me.
“I think we have been very near meeting before,” I remarked, by way
of opening the conversation.
My companion turned her eyes full upon me with an air of inquiry.
She evidently did not recall my face, if she had ever seen me.
“Really—I cannot remember,” she observed, in a low and musical
voice. “When?”
“In the first place, you came down from Berlin by the express ten
days ago. I was going the other way, and our carriages stopped
opposite each other. I saw you at the window.”
“Yes—we came that way, but I do not remember—” She hesitated.
“Secondly,” I continued, “I was sitting alone in my garden last
summer—near the end of July—do you remember? You must have
wandered in there through the park; you came up to the house and
looked at me—”
“Was that you?” she asked, in evident surprise. Then she broke
into a laugh. “I told everybody I had seen a ghost; there had
never been any Cairngorms in the place since the memory of man. We
left the next day, and never heard that you had come there; indeed,
I did not know the castle belonged to you.”
“Where were you staying?” I asked.
“Where? Why, with my aunt, where I always stay. She is your
neighbor, since it IS you.”
“I—beg your pardon—but then—is your aunt Lady Bluebell? I did
not quite catch—”
“Don’t be afraid. She is amazingly deaf. Yes. She is the relict
of my beloved uncle, the sixteenth or seventeenth Baron Bluebell—I
forget exactly how many of them there have been. And I—do you
know who I am?” She laughed, well knowing that I did not.
“No,” I answered frankly. “I have not the least idea. I asked to
be introduced because I recognized you. Perhaps—perhaps you are a
Miss Bluebell?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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