Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction; Washington (D.C.) -- Fiction
"Yes. I prefer Japanese servants, and both Soto and Fugi have been with
me for some time," said Eleanor. "Do you know, Uncle Dana, I have just
discovered that Fugi has studied five years at the American school in
Japan, two years at the Spencerian Business College, and is a graduate
of Columbia University."
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Truxton. "After this I shan't dare to
ask him to pass me the bread. What did you want to say to me on the
telephone, Dana?"
"I wanted some facts about the late Governor Lane of Maryland, and,
knowing you were a walking encyclopedia, I thought you might help me
out."
"Of course I can. Do you----"
"Hush!" exclaimed Eleanor anxiously. "Here comes Captain Lane."
Douglas scanned the tall young officer approaching them with keen
interest. His uniform set off his fine figure to advantage, and his
face was one to inspire confidence.
"How are you, Mrs. Truxton," he said. "Miss Eleanor, I've been
searching the place for you. Won't you come and see the rose garden
with me? Oh, I beg pardon, Colonel, I didn't see you at first."
"That's all right, Lane. Have you met Mr. Hunter?"
"No. How do you do, sir." Lane wrung Douglas' hand. "Glad to know you."
"It is time for us all to go," declared Mrs. Truxton. "We must say
good-bye. Come with me, Douglas, I want to ask you some questions about
your family."
As the small group strolled toward the White House, Colonel Thornton
was buttonholed by an old friend. Mrs. Truxton, with Douglas in tow,
crossed the ground to where the President was standing talking to
several late arrivals.
"Now's our time," whispered Lane in Eleanor's ear. "The rose garden is
to our right." He said no more until they had passed the south portico
and walked down the path leading to the wonderful box hedges which
surround the rose garden. They had the place to themselves, and Eleanor
exclaimed with pleasure at the beautiful flowers which were blossoming
in profusion.
"How is Cynthia?" demanded Lane, stopping in the middle of the garden
path and regarding his companion intently.
"Almost a nervous wreck."
"My poor darling!" The soldier's strong face betrayed deep feeling.
"I wish I could comfort her." His voice changed. "Miss Eleanor, why
does she refuse to see me?" Eleanor hesitated perceptibly. "Wait, let
me finish. I have called repeatedly at the Carews', only to be told
that Cynthia is confined to her room; I have written notes which I
have given personally to Joshua to deliver, and have never received an
answer to one of them.
"I love Cynthia with all my heart and soul," Lane's voice shook with
feeling, "and I would have sworn, before her uncle's death, that my
affection was returned. I cannot understand her avoidance of me,
and her silence cuts deep"--Lane stopped a moment and cleared his
throat--"Miss Eleanor, you are Cynthia's most intimate friend, and you
are with her constantly. You must have heard of some reason for her
treatment of me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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