Canadian fiction -- 20th century; Detective and mystery stories
Concealed behind the bushes that grow around the base of the monument,
Greg was obliged to wait more than an hour for Hickey's return. When
he finally made out the flivver pursuing its lopsided way down the
drive, Hickey was pointing down, and Greg's heart went down in unison.
Of those inside as they passed, Greg had only a glimpse of the
brilliant Señorita Guitterez who was sitting on the little seat facing
back. Greg walked aimlessly down the Drive, a prey to heavy doubts and
anxieties. Suppose that after all there was an understanding between
the other girl and the deceitful Bianca: suppose they had shared his
note and were even now laughing over it. That this was inconsistent
with the facts as he knew them, had no effect on Greg at the moment.
He was jealous, and incapable of reasoning clearly.
Meanwhile time hung heavy on his hands, and once more he walked half
the length of the town. It was impossible for him to put his mind to
anything else until his doubts were resolved.
Hickey returned to the yard at one. Before exchanging a word with him,
Greg flung open the door of the cab, and thrust his hand behind the
back seat. His fingers met with a folded paper that he drew out with
burning eagerness. His first feeling on beholding it was one of blank
disappointment for it seemed to be his own note. But upon opening it
he saw that while it was his own note, she had written an answer on the
back. His eyes flew over the microscopic lines.
"My friend:
"I am writing this in the rest room of a department store, having given
my jailer the slip for a moment. It must be brief. Bianca watches me
by his orders I suppose: I cannot imagine what has made them suddenly
suspicious of me. She tries to keep me from guessing that she watches;
a pretty comedy! I will explain more fully when I see you. For I must
see you. It is impossible for me to plan anything by letter. There is
one thing that ought to be done; de Socotra should be watched. Find a
reliable man to do it if you can. You will be needed for other things.
We haven't seen him for the last two days, but he telephoned mamma that
he'd be at the office of the Managuayan consul--East Thirty-sixth
Street at three to-day, if she wanted to call him up. He could be
picked up there.
"Ah, my friend, I was so glad to get your good letter! How ever can I
thank you! How clever you are! I laughed at your stratagems in the
midst of my anxieties. How nice you looked yesterday morning, and what
a blessed relief to see you unharmed! I burn to hear all that has
happened. Trust me, I will find a way.
"Amy."
A great, glad reaction took place in Greg's breast. The pale December
sun suddenly shone with the warmth of June, and the dingy, muddy yard
seemed transfigured. As for Hickey, he could have hugged him. She
trusted him! called him friend! gave him her own name! Amy! how sweet
and how absolutely fitting! Nothing foreign about Amy!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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