|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 41
I was standing directly in front of her. Turning quickly about, I
looked through the narrow panes of the door, and found that my eyes
naturally rested on the stoop of the opposite house. Indeed, this
stoop was about all that could be seen from the spot where this
woman stood.
"Another eve bent in constant watchfulness upon us," I inwardly
commented. "We are quite surrounded. The house should certainly
hold treasure to warrant all this interest. But what could this
one-time domestic know of the missing bonds?"
"An old-fashioned doorway," I remarked. "It is the only one of the
kind on the whole street. It makes the house conspicuous, but in
a way I like. I don't wonder you enjoy looking at it. To me such
a house and such a doorway suggest mystery and a romantic past.
If the place is not haunted--and only a fool believes in ghosts
--something strange must have happened there or I should never have
the nervous feeling I have in going about the halls and up and down
the stairways. Did you never have that feeling?"
"Never. I'm not given to feelings. I live one day after another
and just wait."
Not given to feelings! With such eyes in such a face! You should
have looked down when you said that, Bess; I might have believed
you then.
"Wait?" I softly repeated. "Wait for what? For fortune to enter
your little shop-door?"
"No, for my husband to come back," was her unexpected answer,
uttered grimly enough to have frightened that husband away again,
had he been fortunate or unfortunate enough to hear her. "I'm a
married woman, Miss, and shouldn't be working like this. And I
won't be always; my man'll come back and make a lady of me again.
It's that I'm waiting for."
Here a customer came in. Naturally I drew back, for our faces were
nearly touching.
"Don't go," she pleaded, catching me by the sleeve and turning
astonishingly pale for one ordinarily so ruddy. "I want to ask a
favor of you. Come into my little room behind. You won't regret
it." This last in an emphatic whisper.
Amazed at the turn which the conversation had taken and
congratulating myself greatly upon my success in insuring her
immediate confidence, I slipped through the opening she made for me
between the tables serving for a counter and followed her into a
room at the rear, which from its appearance answered the triple
purpose of sleeping-room, parlor and kitchen.
"Pardon my impertinence," said she, as she carefully closed the
door behind us. "It's not my habit to make friends with strangers,
but I've taken a fancy to you and think you can be trusted. Will--"
she hesitated, then burst out, "will you do something for me?"
"If I can," I smiled.
"How long do you expect to stay over there?"
"Oh, that I can't say."
"A month? a week?"
"Probably a week."
"Then you can do what I want. Miss--"
"Saunders," I put in.
"There is something in that house which belongs to me."
I started; this was hardly what I expected her to say.
"Something of great importance to me; something which I must have
and have very soon. I don't want to go there for it myself. I hid
it in a very safe place one day when my future looked doubtful, and
I didn't know where I might be going or what might happen to me.
Mrs. Packard would think it strange if she saw where, and might
make it very uncomfortable for me. But you can get what I want
without trouble if you are not afraid of going about the house at
night. It's a little box with my name on it; and it is hidden--"
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|