Detective and mystery stories; Trent, Philip (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“Finissez ce chahut, Célestine!” Trent broke in sharply. Célestine’s
tirade had brought back the memory of his student days with a rush. “En
voilà une scène! C’est rasant, vous savez. Faut rentret ça,
mademoiselle. Du reste, c’est bien imprudent, croyez-moi. Hang it! Have
some common sense! If the inspector downstairs heard you saying that
kind of thing, you would get into trouble. And don’t wave your fists
about so much; you might hit something. You seem,” he went on more
pleasantly, as Célestine grew calmer under his authoritative eye, “to
be even more glad than other people that Mr. Manderson is out of the
way. I could almost suspect, Célestine, that Mr. Manderson did not take
as much notice of you as you thought necessary and right.”
“A peine s’il m’avait regardé!” Célestine answered simply.
“Ça, c’est un comble!” observed Trent. “You are a nice young woman for
a small tea-party, I don’t think. A star upon your birthday burned,
whose fierce, serene, red, pulseless planet never yearned in heaven,
Célestine. Mademoiselle, I am busy. Bon jour. You certainly are a
beauty!”
Célestine took this as a scarcely expected compliment. The surprise
restored her balance. With a sudden flash of her eyes and teeth at
Trent over her shoulder, the lady’s maid opened the door and swiftly
disappeared.
Trent, left alone in the little bedroom, relieved his mind with two
forcible descriptive terms in Célestine’s language, and turned to his
problem. He took the pair of shoes which he had already examined, and
placed them on one of the two chairs in the room, then seated himself
on the other opposite to this. With his hands in his pockets he sat
with eyes fixed upon those two dumb witnesses. Now and then he
whistled, almost inaudibly, a few bars. It was very still in the room.
A subdued twittering came from the trees through the open window. From
time to time a breeze rustled in the leaves of the thick creeper about
the sill. But the man in the room, his face grown hard and sombre now
with his thoughts, never moved.
So he sat for the space of half an hour. Then he rose quickly to his
feet. He replaced the shoes on their shelf with care, and stepped out
upon the landing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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