Part 12 (2/2)
”I won't,” snapped Constance, belligerently. ”I have breakfasted if you please; auntie,” lowering her voice to a tone of mock mystery, ”we have got another detective in the house.”
”So Nelly tells me,” reaching out for another roll.
”And, he has breakfasted with me.”
Mrs. Aliston laid down the roll, turned for a moment to gaze at her niece; and, reading in that fair upturned face, the fact that its owner was in a state of mutiny against the proprieties and all things else that might come in opposition to her will, she took up her roll and b.u.t.tered it carefully as she said:
”Well! that's quite like you. What sort of a man is he?”
”Splendid,” with a shrug of the shoulders, ”smooth as oil, polished as ivory; a Chesterfield in ill fitting clothes.”
”And, a detective?”
”Well, why not? Somehow he has picked up all the arts and graces of a gentleman.”
”Really! Not much like the other one then.”
”Not in the least. The other is eccentric, explosive, amusing. This one is like a lawyer; very non-committal, not at all inclined to tell all he knows.”
”Oh! have you told him about the chloroform?”
”Yes; he has the bottle.”
”Well, what did _he_ say?”
”Nothing.”
”Nothing!”
”Not a word.”
”Goodness gracious! and you breakfasted with him?”
”Yes; and he has spent half an hour or more in the drawing room. I have told him all I had to tell, and he is now prowling about my dressing room.”
”But what does he think about this affair?”
”I don't know;” indifferently.
”Why, it didn't take you all breakfast time to tell _your_ story?”
”Oh, no; I told my story and Mr. Belknap listened very attentively; made some entries in his note book, remarked that he would have a report ready for me in the course of the day, and then turned his back upon the subject.”
”Mercy!”
”He discussed the new opera, asked me if I had seen Neilson in Twelfth Night, gave a brilliant description of a young French drama by a young French author, gave me his opinion of d.i.c.kens, and looked his opinion of myself.”
<script>