The Millionaire Baby — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The Millionaire Baby
John Stuart Mill · en
Satisfied on this point, I turned my attention to what still more
seriously occupied it. The three or four long rugs, which hung from the
ceiling across the whole wall at my left, evidently concealed the
mysterious partition put up in Mr. Ocumpaugh's father's time directly
across this portion of the room. Was it a totally unbroken partition? I
had been told so; but I never accept such assertions without a personal
investigation.
Casting a glance through the doorway and seeing that it would take my
dreaming friend, the policeman, some two or three minutes yet to find
his way back to his post, I hastily lifted these rugs aside, one after
the other, and took a look behind them. A stretch of Georgia pine, laid,
as I readily discovered by more than one rap of my knuckles, directly
over the bricks it was intended to conceal, was visible under each; from
end to end a plain partition with no indications of its having been
tampered with since the alterations were first made.
Dismissing from my mind one of those vague possibilities, which add such
interest to the calling of a detective, I left the place, with my full
thought concentrated on the definite clue I had received from the
chalk-marks.
But I had not walked far before I met with a surprise which possibly
possessed a significance equal to anything I had already observed, if
only I could have fully understood it.
On the path into which I now entered, I encountered again the figure of
Mrs. Carew. Her face was turned full on mine, and she had evidently
retraced her steps to have another instant's conversation with me. The
next moment I was sure of this. Her eyes, always magnetic, shone with
increasing brightness as I advanced to meet her, and her manner, while
grave, was that of a woman quite conscious of the effect she produced by
her least word or action.
"I have returned to tell you," said she, "that I have more confidence in
your efforts than in those of the police officers around here. If
Gwendolen's fate is determined by any one it will be by you. So I want
to be of aid to you if I can. Remember that. I may have said this to you
before, but I wish to impress it upon you."
There was a flutter in her movements which astonished me. She was
surveying me in a straightforward way, and I could not but feel the fire
and force of her look. Happily she was no longer a young woman or I
might have misunderstood the disturbance which took place in my own
breast as I waited for the musical tones to cease.
"You are very good," I rejoined. "I need help, and shall be only too
glad to receive your assistance."