|
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
And now that she knew the story of the old home down in the clump of
timber and of the man who had lived there, she was anxious to meet
Miriam Kirkstone, daughter of the man he had killed. Keith had promised
her they would go up that afternoon. Within himself he knew that he was
not sure of keeping the promise. There was much to do in the next few
hours, and much might happen. In fact there was but little speculation
about it. This was the big day. Just what it held for him he could not
be sure until he saw Shan Tung. Any instant might see him put to the
final test.
Cruze was pacing slowly up and down the hall when Keith entered the
building in which McDowell had his offices. The young secretary's face
bore a perplexed and rather anxious expression. His hands were buried
deep in his trousers pockets, and he was puffing a cigarette. At
Keith's appearance he brightened up a bit.
"Don't know what to make of the governor this morning, by Jove I
don't!" he explained, nodding toward the closed doors. "I've got
instructions to let no one near him except you. You may go in."
"What seems to be the matter?" Keith felt out cautiously.
Cruze shrugged his thin shoulders, nipped the ash from his cigarette,
and with a grimace said, "Shan Tung."
"Shan Tung?" Keith spoke the name in a sibilant whisper. Every nerve in
him had jumped, and for an instant he thought he had betrayed himself.
Shan Tung had been there early. And now McDowell was waiting for him
and had given instructions that no other should be admitted. If the
Chinaman had exposed him, why hadn't McDowell sent officers up to the
Shack? That was the first question that jumped into his head. The
answer came as quickly--McDowell had not sent officers because, hating
Shan Tung, he had not believed his story. But he was waiting there to
investigate. A chill crept over Keith.
Cruze was looking at him intently.
"There's something to this Shan Tung business," he said. "It's even
getting on the old man's nerves. And he's very anxious to see you, Mr.
Conniston. I've called you up half a dozen times in the last hour."
He nipped away his cigarette, turned alertly, and moved toward the
inspector's door. Keith wanted to call him back, to leap upon him, if
necessary, and drag him away from that deadly door. But he neither
moved nor spoke until it was too late. The door opened, he heard Cruze
announce his presence, and it seemed to him the words were scarcely out
of the secretary's mouth when McDowell himself stood in the door.
"Come in, Conniston," he said quietly. "Come in."
It was not McDowell's voice. It was restrained, terrible. It was the
voice of a man speaking softly to cover a terrific fire raging within.
Keith felt himself doomed. Even as he entered, his mind was swiftly
gathering itself for the last play, the play he had set for himself if
the crisis came. He would cover McDowell, bind and gag him even as
Cruze sauntered in the hall, escape through a window, and with Mary
Josephine bury himself in the forests before pursuit could overtake
them. Therefore his amazement was unbounded when McDowell, closing the
door, seized his hand in a grip that made him wince, and shook it with
unfeigned gladness and relief.
"I'm not condemning you, of course," he said. "It was rather beastly of
me to annoy your sister before you were up this morning. She flatly
refused to rouse you, and by George, the way she said it made me turn
the business of getting into touch with you over to Cruze. Sit down,
Conniston. I'm going to explode a mine under you."
He flung himself into his swivel chair and twisted one of his fierce
mustaches, while his eyes blazed at Keith. Keith waited. He saw the
other was like an animal ready to spring and anxious to spring, the one
evident stricture on his desire being that there was nothing to spring
at unless it was himself.
"What happened last night?" he asked.
Keith's mind was already working swiftly. McDowell's question gave him
the opportunity of making the first play against Shan Tung.
"Enough to convince me that I am going to see Shan Tung today," he said.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|