. of Providence. Do you know
where you can find... him?"
"Not exactly; but I have a shrewd suspicion," again she glanced in an
embarrassed way at Leroux, "that he will know where to find ME."
"Who is this presumptuous person?" inquired the novelist, leaning
forward, his dark blue eyes aglow with interest.
"Never mind," replied Denise Ryland, "you will know... soon enough.
In the meantime... as I am simply... starving, suppose we see about...
lunch?"
Moved by some unaccountable impulse, Helen extended her hand to Leroux,
who took it quietly in his own and held it, looking down at the slim
fingers as though he derived strength and healing from their touch.
"Poor boy," she said softly.
XXXIV
M. MAX REPORTS PROGRESS
Detective-Sergeant Sowerby was seated in Dunbar's room at New Scotland
Yard. Some days had elapsed since that critical moment when, all unaware
of the fact, they had stood within three yards of the much-wanted
Soames, in the fauteuils of the east-end music-hall. Every clue thus
far investigated had proved a cul-de-sac. Dunbar, who had literally been
working night and day, now began to show evidence of his giant toils.
The tawny eyes were as keen as ever, and the whole man as forceful as of
old, but in the intervals of conversation, his lids would droop wearily;
he would only arouse himself by a perceptible effort.
Pages:
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318