Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
"In the library, you say? Give me that room and be quick about it."
There was a pause in which the eyes of both father and daughter
plainly showed to each other the strength of the will that lay behind
them.
"Hello--Hello," called Wilkinson, "is that you, Flomerfelt?"
"............"
"Look here, Flomerfelt, had you an idea that Beekman----" Then,
parenthetically, to Leslie, who was beating against her father's
intentions to betray her confidences with as much success as a bird
beating against the bars of its cage: "Of course, I'll tell him. Do
you think for one moment that the wishes of a silly girl like you will
be allowed to stand in the way of our well-laid plans--not much!"
Then through the phone: "Yes, this is Peter V. and.... Well, he has,
and Leslie has refused him.... What's that?... Yes, he's gone.... No,
she's here with me.... All right, I will." And with that he hung up the
receiver, and turning round and facing the girl he announced: "Now,
young woman, you will listen to my final word in this matter." But that
word was not spoken, for at that moment there came a knock at the door
and Jeffries, entering, announced a visitor for Miss Wilkinson.
XV
There was a flush on the face of Elinor Ilingsworth as she left the
office of J. Newton Leech. For the hundred and first time, perhaps,
she had crept into the presence of the Assistant District Attorney,
trusting that he might have some good news for her. Her father was her
only relative; she had no friends in New York; and her money was nearly
gone. At first, when she had gone to the Tombs to see her father, the
authorities had permitted her to have her talks with him in the counsel
room, where Leslie had seen her father, but as the weeks passed into
months, things changed, and it ended in Elinor's sitting on the outside
of a cell, holding her father's hand between the bars. And as they sat
there with bowed heads her father had told her, not once, but a hundred
times, that he was guiltless of the murder of Roy Pallister. And Elinor
believed and felt that some day the truth would be known. Every hour,
therefore, when it was possible she spent in going to and fro, between
the offices of Worth Higgins and Assistant District Attorney Leech.
Singularly enough, she received more encouragement from the latter than
the former; indeed, Higgins gave her but little hope. Nor did he tell
her that a wealthy newspaper, for ulterior purposes, was employing
him to fight for her father. Enthusiastic always at the crisis of a
litigation, Worth Higgins, for some reason or other, had become cool,
surly, sharp to Elinor, as time went on. Her visits annoyed him; he
rebuffed her as often as he could. Leech, on the other hand, had been
by no means chary of his promises to help her through her troubles;
on the contrary, he was ever profuse, when the woman in question was
pretty, and Elinor Ilingsworth was unquestionably pretty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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