Part 34 (1/2)
That evening, when he returned to his boarding-house, the servant said:
”Did your friend find the opera-gla.s.s?”
”What?” said Gilbert.
”Shure a friend of yours called, and said you had sent him to borrow your opera-gla.s.s.”
”I sent n.o.body. Who was it? What did he look like?”
”He was about your size, shure, and had a black _mustash_.”
”I don't know who it can be. Did he go up into my room?”
”Yes, he did. He said he knew the way.”
”I can't think who it was.”
Gilbert went up stairs, and, to increase the mystery, there was his opera-gla.s.s on the bureau, where he usually kept it. It was directly in sight, so that the visitor must have seen it.
”I can't understand it,” he said, perplexed. ”Mordaunt, do you know of any friend of mine who has a black mustache?”
”Frank Oswald.”
”He is considerably larger than I am. The servant said it was some one of my size.”
”I can't think of anybody else.”
”I don't see why he didn't take the opera-gla.s.s, if he wanted it, though it would have been rather bold, as I didn't authorize anybody to take it.”
As there seemed no clew to the mystery, and as, moreover, Gilbert had no suspicion that the visitor was on an unlawful errand, he dismissed it from his mind.
Two days afterward, Gilbert met his uncle in the street. As the week was not up, he was about to pa.s.s him with a bow, when Mr. Grey paused, and appeared inclined to speak.
”Young man,” he said, ”can you call on me this evening?”
”Yes, sir.”
”I shall leave the city to-morrow, and, though it is of no consequence to me, I suppose you would like to know my decision in regard to the matter you broached the other day.”
”I will call,” said Gilbert, bowing.
”He looks as if he were going to defy me,” thought our hero. ”Well, I am ready for him.”
In the evening he called, and was shown up to his uncle's room.
”Good-evening, Mr. Grey,” he said, politely.
”Good-evening, young sir,” said the other. ”You did me the honor, the other day, of claiming relations.h.i.+p with me?”
”I did.”