Part 39 (2/2)
”Sorry,” said Staff gravely; ”but why stand on ceremony at this late day? My bedroom windows are still open; I left 'em so, fancying you might prefer to come in that way.”
”It's a pity,” commented Iff, following him upstairs, ”you can't do something for that oratorical weakness of yours. Ever try choking it down? Or would that make you ill?”
With which he seemed content to abandon persiflage, satisfied that his average for acerbity was still high. ”Besides,” he said peaceably, ”I'm all dressed up pretty now, and it doesn't look right for a respectable member of society to be pulling off second-story man stunts.”
Staff led him into the study, turned on the lights, then looked his guest over.
So far as his person was involved, it was evident that Iff had employed Staff's American money to advantage. He wore, with the look of one fresh from thorough grooming at a Turkish bath, a new suit of dark clothes.
But when he had thrown aside his soft felt hat, his face showed drawn, pinched and haggard, the face of a man whose sufferings are of the spirit rather than of the body. Loss of sleep might have accounted in part for that expression, but not for all of it.
”What's the matter?” demanded Staff, deeply concerned.
”You ask me that!” said Iff impatiently. He threw himself at length upon the divan. ”Haven't you been to the St. Simon? Don't you _know_ what has happened? Well, so have I, and so do I.”
”Well ...?”
Iff raised himself on his elbow to stare at Staff as if questioning his sanity.
”You know she's gone--that she's in _his_ hands--and you have the face to stand there and say '_Wel-l_?' to me!” he snapped.
”But--good Lord, man!--what is Miss Searle to you that you should get so excited about her disappearance, even a.s.suming what we're not sure of--that she decamped with Ismay?”
”She's only everything to me,” said Iff quietly: ”she's my daughter.”
Staff slumped suddenly into a chair.
”You're serious about that?” he gasped.
”It's not a matter I care to joke about,” said the little man gloomily.
”But why didn't you tell a fellow ...!”
”Why should I--until now? You mustn't forget that you sat in this room not twenty-four hours ago and listened to me retail what I admit sounded like the d.a.m.nedest farrago of lies that was ever invented since the world began; and because you were a good fellow and a gentleman, you stood for it--gave me the benefit of the doubt. And at that I hadn't told you half. Why? Why, because I felt I had put sufficient strain upon your credulity for one session at least.”
”Yes--I know,” Staff agreed, bewildered; ”but--but Miss Searle--your daughter--!”
”That's a hard one for you to swallow----what? I don't blame you. But it's true. And that's why I'm all worked up--half crazed by my knowledge that that infamous blackguard has managed to deceive her and make her believe he is me--myself--her father.”
”But what makes you think that?”
”Oh, I've his word for it. Read!”
Iff whipped an envelope from his pocket and flipped it over to Staff.
”He knew, of course, where I get my letters when in town, and took a chance of that catching me there and poisoning the sunlight for me.”
Staff turned the envelope over in his hands, remarking the name, address, postmark and special delivery stamp. ”Mailed at Hartford, Connecticut, at nine this morning,” he commented.
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