Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
However successful Ilingsworth believed he had been in his effort
to persuade himself that his intuitive faculties had been at fault,
when they warned him of some alien presence in the room, it must be
acknowledged that he continued to look a little tentatively. At length,
however, his uneasiness wore off, and his manner, while again holding
out the picture for Leslie to look upon, softened so perceptibly that
it would have given one the impression that his visit there was more
in the nature of a social call than the tempestuous errand of business
vengeance that it was.
"I wish you had known her," Ilingsworth said; "and I'm rather surprised
that you don't. We're Morristown people, you know, and Elinor, well,
Elinor's friends are all very nice people. Even in New York, she----"
Leslie's eyes sought the ground.
"We go out very little here," she said. "Of course I have my friends,
and there was a time.... But since my father married a second time,
why----" This girlish confidence trailed off into uncertainty. She
handed back the photograph. "But I should like to know her," she
declared with sincerity.
"I wish you did," he began, and then added, "even in the light of
present things, I wish you did."
In the silence that followed Leslie fell to wondering about the man
before her, and it did not take her long to decide that she liked him.
He was not, it is true, of the same shrewd, practical mould as her
father. But she recognised that he had the high-strung temperament, so
often a characteristic of the aristocrat. The sense of fear was fast
leaving her.
"I--I'm going to apologise," he began at length, "for the fright I've
given you, though my purpose hasn't flagged. And if I had a man to deal
with--if I had met Peter V. Wilkinson, face to face again, who knows
but the demon in me would come once more to the fore. You say you can't
understand. Let me explain to you how it was: Up to thirteen months ago
we, Elinor and I, had a quarter of a million dollars--that means nearly
fifteen thousand dollars a year. And fifteen thousand in Morristown
means decent living--even here in New York it would mean that. Then I
met Wilkinson." His face grew livid, his hand clenched. "May heaven
forgive me, why didn't I understand it was my quarter of a million that
this vampire----"
The girl drew herself up and quickly interrupted him.
"Mr. Ilingsworth, I must remind you that you are speaking of my father."
There was no mistaking her anger. Her eyes blazed, and it seemed to
rouse the tiger in him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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