|
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 23
A key turned in the door. Santos sprang to his feet. It was Gordon.
"Ah, good evening," the Captain greeted them. The fact that they had
been talking so earnestly alone was not lost on him. "May I join the
conspiracy?" he smiled. "What luck to-day? By the way, I have just
heard of a consignment of a thousand rifles as good as new that can
be bought for a song."
Santos, elated at the progress so far, told hastily of Constance's
success. "Let us get an option on them for a few days," he cried.
"Good," agreed Gordon, "only," he added, shaking his finger
playfully at Constance, as the three left the headquarters, "don't
let the commander-in-chief monopolize ALL your time, Remember, we
all need you now. Santos, that was an inspiration to get Mrs. Dunlap
on our side."
Somehow she felt uncomfortable. She half imagined that a frown had
flitted over Santos' face.
"Are you going to Brooklyn?" she asked him.
"No, we shall be working at the Junta late to-night," he replied, as
they parted at the subway, he and Gordon to secure the option on the
guns, she to plan for the morrow.
"I have made a good beginning," she congratulated herself, when,
later in her rooms, she was going over the list of names of
commission merchants who handled produce of South American
countries.
There was a tap on the door.
Quickly, she shoved the list into the drawer of the table.
"A gentleman to see you, downstairs, ma'am," announced the maid.
As she pushed aside the portieres, her heart gave a leap--it was
Drummond.
"Mrs. Dunlap," began the wily detective, seeming to observe
everything with eyes that seldom had the appearance of looking at
anything, "I think you will recall that we have met before."
Constance bit her lip. "And why again?" she queried curtly.
"I am informed," he went on coolly ignoring her curtness, "that
there is a guest in this house named Santos--Ramon Santos."
He said it in a half insinuating, half questioning tone.
"You might inquire of the landlady," replied Constance, now
perfectly composed.
"Mrs. Dunlap," he burst forth, exasperated, "what is the use of
beating about? Do you know the real character of this Santos!"
"It is a matter of perfect indifference," she returned.
"Then you do not think a warning from me worth troubling about?"
demanded the detective.
Constance continued to stand as if to terminate the interview.
"I came here," continued the detective showing no evidence of taking
the hint, "to make a proposition to you. Mrs. Dunlap, you are in bad
again. But this time there is a chance for you to get out without
risk. I--I think I may talk plainly? We understand each other!"
His manner had changed. Constance could not have described to
herself the loathing she felt for the man as it suddenly flashed
over her what he was after. If she had resented his familiarity
before, it brought the stinging blood to her cheeks now to realize
that he was actually seeking to persuade her to betray her friends.
"Do you want to know what I think?" she scorned, then without
waiting added, "I think you are a crook--a blackmailer,--that's what
I think of a private detective like you."
The defiance of the little woman amazed even Drummond. Instead of
fear as of the pursued, Constance Dunlap showed all the boldness of
the pursuer.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|