Detective and mystery stories; London (England) -- Fiction; Trials (Murder) -- Fiction
"I only told Mona that I loved Constance," said Shepworth, after an
uneasy pause; "naturally I didn't like to say too much."
"I quite understand. But the fact remains that you love Constance, and
that Constance loves you. She is a married woman."
"Unfortunately for me," said Shepworth bitterly.
"And unfortunately for her also, seeing that she is tied to a man who
hates her more than he loves her. Rover's pride is wounded, Ned, by
his wife's preference for you, and he'll make trouble."
"I see that, and I wish to avoid trouble for Constance's sake. But
what can I do?"
"You can move from Alexander Mansions for one thing, and take a trip
to the Colonies for another. Rover may die."
"There is no chance."
"Pooh!" said Prelice contemptuously, "the man's a bloodless little
rat. And look at those dilated eyes of his--like those of a fierce
rabbit, if there is such a thing in nature. I shouldn't be at all
surprised if Rover pegged out unexpectedly. He doesn't motor, nor
golf, nor bicycle, nor shoot--in fact, he avoids all excitements. So
Aunt Sophia told me. That shows how weak his heart is. Depend upon
it----"
"No, no!" said Shepworth impatiently; "even for Constance. I do not
want to build my future happiness on a man's death. I shall take your
advice, and go to Australia for a few years. It will be better for me
and for Constance, since here we can only look at one another, and
dare not meet, much less speak, save in the presence of others. But
there has been no scandal since Rover's marriage, and so far as I'm
concerned there shall be no scandal. There, we have talked enough."
"Poor old chap," said Prelice, leaning forward to shake Shepworth's
hand, "you're having a deuce of a time. Your Karma----"
"Oh, hang your theosophy!"
"Very good. One wastes words in speaking to the deaf. Besides, the
matter of Mona's rescue is more important than anything else. Hang it,
how slow this beastly train is!"
This was hard on the engine driver, who was doing his best, and
actually was sending along the train at top speed. But had Prelice
been mounted on a flying bombshell he would have found its speed too
slow, since his thoughts, outstripping all other means of locomotion,
had flown long since to the house in the hollow.
However, the longest rivers get to the sea in the end, and the young
men found themselves on Hythe platform. A motor car--ordered in
advance by wire--waited them, and they were soon buzzing upward to
Lanwin Grange. On arriving at the great mansion they were met by Mrs.
Blexey, all tears and lamentation. But Prelice, in his stiff military
manner, soon reduced her to common-sense talk, and learned that
although every inquiry had been made, and every possible place
searched, as yet Mona had not been found. She had disappeared as
completely as a dewdrop does in the ocean. Even the local police could
do nothing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account