Adventure, June 1911 — page 44: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

230 Dean would know something! Or at least he would be able to advise her. She picked off the receiver again and listened impatiently for the operator’s voice. It was fully three minutes before she got through and the tension of her nerves was growing tighter every second. She held the line while the servant made inquiries, and it was with a mixture of gratification and alarm that she heard Sir Dean himself reply to her after a short interval. “Ts that Miss Darien? Good-evening. My man tells me you are asking for your brother. But surely he is at home? No, no, quite close here—just across the road— the Foreign Office, to be exact. Yes, he told me he was to meet Lord Fenton at seven o’clock. I remember commenting on it and saying it would probably lead to a good thing. Left here a little before six. Yes, I admit it is strange, but do not permit your- self to get anxious just yet. He may have been detained—he may have forgotten the appointment.” “Oh, no, Sir Dean! It was prominent in his mind from the moment it was made. I know he was building so much on a meeting with Lord Fenton, though I did not know it was for to-night. He can’thave forgotten it!” “T must confess it is not likely—still “Was there no answer required to your errand, Sir Dean? Do you know if he ever went to the F. O.?” - Eva, as she put the question, could have sworn that she heard a peculiar click come from Sir Dean’s end of the wire—a sharp click as though he had suddenly gritted his teeth together in quick annoyance. There was a perceptible pause before his answer came, and when it did come it was given slowly and haltingly, as though he were weighing most carefully every word— giving each word a momentous meaning and gravity. “To be perfectly frank with you, Miss Darien, your question has startled me. Your brother left me with a wallet of papers for the Foreign Office at about ten or five minutes to six. At six o’clock a telephone message came through that the papers were safely delivered. I was in rather a hurry and ‘did nothing more than receive the message. I thought at the time it was Darien’s voice—Darien in a hurry € ‘ “And now?” asked Eva sharply. ‘And now I’m not so sure. I should not like to swear to it Adventure Eva uttered a gasp of dismay—then her quick brain leaped to a sudden under- standing. “One question, Sir Dean! If no message had come through at all, would you have made inquiries at the time?” Sir Dean hesitated for the barest fraction of a second. Then: “Yes, Miss Darien, I would have made inquiries. It was ar- ranged between us that your brother was to telephone me on the private wire so soon as the papers were in the care of Mr. Follett. If no message had come through I should have been uneasy.” oe EVA put up the receiver with a chill sting fear growing up round her heart. Her worst forebodings were becom- ing stronger and stronger every moment. Something had happened to her brother. Even in Sir Dean’s studied sentences she had discerned an underlying current of alarm. ‘Then there was the message pur- porting to be from her brother and in his voice. What could that mean? Was it Car who had sent that message, Car him- self, or was it part of the mystery? Had some one imitated his voice? But if so— why? What purpose wasittoserve? How could any one know of the arrangement to inform Sir Dean of the safety of the papers? How could any one—any outsider—use the _ private wire of the F. O.? In an agony of apprehension she sprang up and walked to the door with the in- tention of getting into some outdoor things so as to be ready in case of emergency. For by now she dreaded she knew not what— the worst—the unknown worst! But as she touched the door-handle the sudden sharp tinkle of the telephone bell rang out its brusk summons and she flew back to the table in the window in a passion of expectation. _ Yes—yes—are you there? Miss Darien “ She gripped the receiver and held it to her ears, and as she listened her face grew white as chalk, her body quivered as though a lash descended on the stroke of every sinister word spoken over the wire by an unknown voice. “You were speaking a moment since to Sir Dean Densham? Quiteso. Oh, thanks, I heard everything I wanted to—I tapped the wire at a very opportune moment. You Yes, I am are anxious about your brother, eh? Again COMmiclboookkS.G©