Our ears were strained for the first throb of the motor as it
turned into the drive and commenced the climb to the house. Ten
minutes passed, fifteen, twenty. I saw Louise's hands grow rigid
as they clutched the arms of her chair. I watched Gertrude's
bright color slowly ebbing away, and around my own heart I
seemed to feel the grasp of a giant hand.
Twenty-five minutes, and then a sound. But it was not the chug
of the motor: it was the unmistakable rumble of the Casanova
hack. Gertrude drew aside the curtain and peered into the
darkness.
"It's the hack, I am sure," she said, evidently relieved.
"Something has gone wrong with the car, and no wonder--the way
Halsey went down the hill."
It seemed a long time before the creaking vehicle came to a stop
at the door. Louise rose and stood watching, her hand to her
throat. And then Gertrude opened the door, admitting Mr.
Jamieson and a stocky, middle-aged man. Halsey was not with
them. When the door had closed and Louise realized that Halsey
had not come, her expression changed. From tense watchfulness to
relief, and now again to absolute despair, her face was an open
page.
"Halsey?" I asked unceremoniously, ignoring the stranger. "Did
he not meet you?"
"No." Mr. Jamieson looked slightly surprised. "I rather
expected the car, but we got up all right."
"You didn't see him at all?" Louise demanded breathlessly.
Mr. Jamieson knew her at once, although he had not seen her
before.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202