Adventure, December 1914 — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

I20 all his meals were punctual and well cook- ed. The girl brought the things in and out of the room, and that was practically all he saw of her. She did the ordering of the provisions— she preferred to doso. It struck him that her intention was to give him as few opportunities of talking to ,her as she could. Of her mother he saw and heard nothing. He inquired after her once or twice, but the girl’s answers were of a kind which did not invite a further show of interest. Quite conscious that it was no concern of his and that Miss Dennis was justified in keeping her own counsel, being just then a tolerably idle man he was perhaps the more disposed to engage himself in matters which were no actual affair of his. The part of the house in which Mrs. Den- nis might be became quite a problem to him. One morning, as Miss Dennis was removing his breakfast things, he asked her a question point-blank. “By the way, whereabouts in the house is your mother, Miss Dennis—upstairs or down?” The girl was collecting the breakfast things upon a tray. She had a plate in one hand and a dish in the other. For just one instant she stopped; her hands shook; then, bringing the plate and the dish together with a clash, she continued her work more hurriedly. Then, picking up the tray, going with it towards the door —how often had he found it difficult to avoid asking her to let him carry that heavy tray —she paused to remark— “Will you be in at the usual hour for lunch, Mr. Adair?” He eyed her. She met his glance quite steadily, seeming to ignore the smile by which it was accompanied. _ “T think I will take lunch in town.” So soon as he had said it she went out of the room. He stared at the door which she had closed behind her. “Now what’s the meaning of that? She heard my question—-why couldn’t she answer? Is her mother’s whereabouts in the house a mystery? It’s a very funny thing.” 3 His tone almost suggested irritation. He unfolded his paper, looked at it, then lowered it and stared again at the door. “That girl’s beginning to possess me; I don’t know why, but she is. I’m getting Adventure a trick of thinking of nothing else but her. It’s—it’s absurd!” He returned to the newspaper, ran his glance hurriedly over it, then lowered it again, ‘All I can say is, if her mother is an in- valid, she was pretty active last night. Nor is that the first time I have observed her nocturnal activity. It must have been midnight before I was into bed; then everything was still enough. “Then something woke me. I heard movements downstairs—sounds of voices. I was just thinking of getting up to offer my services in case anything was wrong when the sounds ceased. I looked at my watch; it was nearly twenty minutes past two. ‘Just as I was dozing off again I heard what I am convinced was the click of the hasp of the front gate. Miss Dennis had had a visitor—at that hour of the morn- ing! I went to the window to see who it was. It was pitch dark; there was nothing to be seen. It might have been a burglar. “T went out on to the landing with some idea of going around the house, but as every- thing was perfectly still I thought better of it and went back to bed. Considering how she takes care that I should confine myself to my own apartments, I could picture the look with which she would re- gard me if she caught me prowling about in my dressing-gown and pajamas.” Once more he went back to his paper, grumbling to himself as he read it. “It might have been getting on for three; but if she was up—and I could have de- clared I heard her voice—she shows no signs of having had a broken night. The next time I hear the garden-gate opened at that hour of the morning I’. find out who has opened it.” THAT week-end Mr. Adair ran over to Paris. He had an uncom- fortable and, as he told himself, ridiculous feeling that something was going on at the Dovecote which, just then, made his presence unwelcome. He left on the Friday and returned on the following Wednesday. He made the acquaintance of a man in the Paris hotel, with whom he returned to London. The boat had a very rough passage; the pas- sengers did not get to London till late. Adair wired to the Dovecote telling them not to sit up for him; that he would GomiiGcordook C©