"
"Decidedly!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle, who was watching the central figure
with great curiosity. "I should indeed, like to know--especially if Miss
Chatfield proposes to tell us something about her father."
Mr. Petherton, who frowned very much and appeared to be greatly disturbed
by these irregularities, twisted sharply round on the visitor.
"Where is your father?" he demanded.
"Where you can't find him!" retorted Addie, with a flash of the eye that
lit up her whole face. "So's Andrius. They're off, my good sir!--both of
'em. Neither you nor the police can lay hands on 'em now. And you'll do
no good by laying hands on me. Come now," she went on, "I said I'd come
to ask for mercy. But I came for more. This game's all over! It's--up.
The curtain's down--at least it's going down. Why don't you let me tell
you all about it and then we can be friends?"
Mr. Petherton gazed at Addie for a moment as if she were some
extraordinary specimen of a new race. Then he took off his glasses, waved
them at Sir Cresswell and dropped into a chair with a snort.
"I wash my hands of the whole thing!" he exclaimed. "Do what you
like--all of you. Irregular--most irregular!"
Vickers gave Addie a sly look.
"Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Chatfield," he said. "There's no need
for you to tell anything against yourself, you know."
"Me!" exclaimed Addie.
Pages:
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299