The SurvivorOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Survivor
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories
"Twenty pounds," he repeated, with mock reverence. "Heavens! what
affluence. Will you walk round with me and wait while I change?"
"Why, yes. I came early in case you wanted to go to your rooms first.
Do you know, I've been to the 'Milan' and chosen my table. There's a
lovely band playing, and it's all quite a fairy tale, isn't it?"
He laughed, and they went out together into the street. She looked at
him with sudden gravity. "You're not well, Douglas." "Never better," he
assured her gaily. She shook her head. "You haven't been worrying
about Joan?"
"Never think of her," he answered truthfully. She sighed.
"I wish I didn't. Douglas, I didn't mean to talk of this just now, for
it's a horrid subject, and to-day is a _fete_ day. But supposing Joan
finds you out. Could she make them arrest you?"
"Not a doubt about it," he answered, "if she chose."
"And afterwards?"
"Well, it wouldn't be pleasant," he admitted. "I think I should get out
of it, but it might be awkward. And in getting out of it, I might
perhaps bring more pain upon Joan than any she has suffered yet."
"Did any one kill Father, Douglas?"
He hesitated.
"I didn't."
"Do you know who did?"
"I'm afraid I can guess."
She was silent for a moment. Then they turned off into the side street
where his rooms were, and she passed her arm through his.
"There, now I'm going to banish that and all unpleasant subjects," she
declared. "Do you know, I feel ridiculously light-hearted to-day,
Douglas. I warn you that I shall be a frivolous companion."
"You'll be a very welcome one," he answered. "There was never a time
when I wanted you so much. I've finished my novel and I have a fit of
the blues."
"It is your own fault," she said. "It is because you have not been to
see me for a fortnight."
"And I wonder how much you have missed me all that fortnight. Tell me
what you have been doing."
She looked at him sideways. He almost fancied that she was blushing.
"Tuesday night Mr. Drexley took me out to dinner, and we went to the
Lyceum," she said.
He stopped short upon the pavement.
"What?"
She looked up at him demurely.
"Why, you don't mind, do you, Douglas? Mr. Drexley is a friend of
yours, isn't he? He has been so kind."
"The devil he has!" Douglas muttered, amazed. "And how many more times
have you seen him during the fortnight, I wonder?"
"Well--once or twice," she admitted.
"Any more dinner parties?"
"We went to Richmond one afternoon. Mr. Drexley rows so nicely. He
introduced me to his sister."
"Never knew he had one," Douglas muttered.
"Here we are. Come in and sit down while I change."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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