England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Social classes -- England -- Fiction
"Your friend Clarehaven," Hausberg went on, "and that little swine
Lonsdale are responsible for this; but when I tell you that they drove
down this afternoon to Brighton with Lily and that cursed friend of
hers--"
"How do you know?" she interrupted, with some emotion.
"You don't suppose I set a girl up in a flat without having her watched
first, do you? When I buy," said Hausberg, "I buy in the best market.
Here's the detective's report."
He handed her a half-sheet of note-paper written in a copperplate hand
with a record of Lily's day, ending up with the information that she and
her friend Sylvia Scarlett, accompanied by the Earl of Clarehaven and
the Honorable Arthur Lonsdale, had driven down to Brighton immediately
after lunch and reached the Britannia Hotel at five o'clock, "as
confirmed per telephone."
"Well," said Hausberg, grimly, "Lily has been paid out by losing my
protection, but, by God! I'll get even with the rest of them soon or
late."
"You don't really think that I had anything to do with this?" asked
Dorothy. "Why, I haven't seen either Clarehaven or Lonsdale for a month!
I didn't even know that they had met Sylvia and Lily. They didn't meet
them in Halfmoon Street. Why do you drag me here at this hour of the
night?"
Hausberg seemed convinced by her denials, and his manner changed
abruptly.
"I'm sorry I suspected you as well. I might have known better. I see now
that we've both been made to look foolish. What can I do to show you I'm
sorry for behaving like this? We're old pals, Dorothy. I was off my head
when I came round here and they told me the trick that had been played
on me. Damn them! Damn them! I'll--But what can I do to show you I'm
sorry?"
"You'd better invest some money for me," said Dorothy, severely.
"How much do you want?"
"No, no," she said. "I've got two hundred and fifty pounds that I want
to invest; only, of course, I must have a really good investment."
"That's all right," he promised. "I'll do a bit of gambling for you."
They had left the flat behind them and were walking slowly down-stairs
when suddenly from one of the doors on the landing immediately below a
man slipped out, paused for a moment when he heard their footsteps
descending, thought better of his timidity, hurried on down, and was out
of sight before they reached the landing.
"Good Heavens!" Dorothy ejaculated, seizing her companion's arm.
"I'm afraid I've made you jumpy," he said. "Poor old Dorothy, I shall
have to find a jolly good investment to make up for it."
Hausberg was quite his old suave self again; it was Dorothy who was pale
and agitated now.
"It was nothing," she murmured; but it was really a great deal, because
the man she had seen was Mr. Gilbert Caffyn, the secretary of the Church
of England Purity Society.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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