The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(294)

                They looked at me wistfully, so wistfully.

                “Say it was not Howard,” whispered Caroline, stealing up a little nearer to my side.

                “And we will never forget it,” murmured Isabella, in what I am obliged to say was not her society manner.

                “I hope to be able to say it,” was my short rejoinder, made difficult by the prejudices I had formed. “When I see your brother, I may be able to decide at a glance that the person I saw entering your house was not he.”

                “Yes, oh, yes. Do you hear that, Isabella? Miss Butterworth will save Howard yet. O you dear old soul. I could almost love you!”

                This was not agreeable to me. I a dear old soul! A term to be applied to a butter-woman not to a Butterworth. I drew back and their sentimentalities came to an end. I hope their brother Howard is not the guilty man the papers make him out to be, but if he is, the Misses Van Burnam’s fine phrase, We could almost love you, will not deter me from being honest in the matter.

                Mr. Gryce called early, and I was glad to be able to tell him that the gentleman who visited him the night before did not recall the impression made upon me by the other. He received the communication quietly, and from his manner I judged that it was more or less expected. But who can be a correct judge of a detective’s manner, especially one so foxy and imperturbable as this one? I longed to ask who his visitor was, but I did not dare, or rather—to be candid in little things that you may believe me in great—I was confident he would not tell me, so I would not compromise my dignity by a useless question.

                He went after a five minutes’ stay, and I was about to turn my attention to household affairs, when Franklin came in.

                His sisters jumped like puppets to meet him.

                “O,” they cried, for once thinking and speaking alike, “have you found her?”



                             His silence was so eloquent that he did not need to shake his head.

                “But you will before the day is out?” protested Caroline.

                “It is too early yet,” added Isabella.

                “I never thought I would be glad to see that woman under any circumstances,” continued the former, “but I believe now that if I saw her coming up the street on Howard’s arm, I should be happy enough to rush out and—and—”

                “Give her a hug,” finished the more impetuous Isabella.

                It was not what Caroline meant to say, but she accepted the emendation, with just the slightest air of deprecation. They were both evidently much attached to Howard, and ready in his trouble to forget and forgive everything. I began to like them again.

                “Have you read the horrid papers?” and “How is papa this morning?” and “What shall we do to save Howard?” now flew in rapid questions from their lips; and feeling that it was but natural they should have their little say, I sat down in my most uncomfortable chair and waited for these first ebullitions to exhaust themselves.

                Instantly Mr. Van Burnam took them by the arm, and led them away to a distant sofa.

                “Are you happy here?” he asked, in what he meant for a very confidential tone. But I can hear as readily as a deaf person anything which is not meant for my ears.

                “O she’s kind enough,” whispered Caroline, “but so stingy. Do take us where we can get something to eat.”