England -- Fiction; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
"I go, sister," he said, significantly. He held out the viper. "Will
you take the sap, my gorgeous Gentile lady?"
"Ugh! No." She recoiled with a shriek from the wriggling reptile. "Take
the nasty thing away!"
He stared and thrust it again into his bosom.
"Ho!" he said. "You are a queer Gentile, you--like a man for boldness;
yet you fear a sap! Oh, rare." And he slapped his knee with a chuckle.
"Go away," repeated Ruth. "Go to Hollyoaks and get some food."
"Duvel!" he cried, quickly. "I'm for the road. My hunger is great.
Farewell, sister, I shall see you again," and he swung off with a
hacking cough tearing him, and smiling his careless smile.
His tall form passed into the sunlight and vanished round a curve
of the road. Ruth watched him till he was out of sight, then took
her cane and began poking about the rubbish under the window where,
as Geoffrey surmised, the murderer had stood watching his intended
victim. On bending down to examine the ground more carefully, she saw
something glittering dimly. Almost without thinking she picked it up,
and found to her surprise and joy that it was an oval piece of gold
with a champagne bottle enamelled thereon with exquisite art. On the
other side was a catch which proved that the oval had formed part of a
cuff-link. Holding it in her small pink palm, Ruth looked now on this
treasure with the greatest delight.
"This was dropped by the murderer," she said to herself. "It was torn
from his shirt cuff as he struck the blow, or there might have been a
quick struggle. Fancying my finding it after all these years! The rain
from the eaves has laid it bare. Ah! then the assassin was a gentleman.
Well, I ought to be satisfied with my day's work, but I shall come
again. What good fortune to have found this the very first time."
She was so excited that she almost danced along the road as she took
her way home. But after a while she sobered down somewhat and glanced
suspiciously around for there had come upon her an undefinable feeling
of being watched.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CLAIRVOYANT.
If Ruth had but gone carefully through the deserted hovel she would
have made yet another discovery. Her instinct had not played her false
when she had felt that unfriendly eyes were upon her. For she had
been watched, and the watcher now emerged from the house to see her
disappear down the road. Much later on she came to know of the spy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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