Part 4 (2/2)
She showed them into a somberly furnished but spotlessly kept sitting-room; a single window overlooked that portion of the lawn which lay behind the house.
”If you will sit down,” she said, ”I will speak to Mr. Warwick.”
Ashton-Kirk, whose first glance had been through the window, said:
”You have j.a.panese for neighbors, I see.”
The woman's eyes also went to the window; there was a long, narrow stretch of lawn between the house and the one behind it; and this was divided in the center by a hedge fence. Upon the opposite side of the latter, engaged in uprooting the encroaching weeds, was a small, dark man with spectacles and grayish hair. At sight of him the old woman made a gesture of aversion.
”The good G.o.d hates all pagans,” she said, resolutely, and went out.
The secret agent smiled.
”I think I should have known her for a zealot even without that,” he said. ”The type is perfectly expressed in her.”
”She has no love for the j.a.ps, at all events,” said Fuller, as he went to the window.
”The man clipping the hedge,” said Ashton-Kirk, ”is a member of the household of whom Warwick neglected to speak.”
Fuller looked at the person indicated; he was upon the Morse side of the fence and wielded a huge pair of shears diligently; in spite of the mildness of the evening he had a heavy coat b.u.t.toned to the chin. Near him frolicked a small terrier.
”He may be a gardener called in to do the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g,” suggested the a.s.sistant.
”I think we'll find that he belongs here,” said Ashton-Kirk. ”That is a Scottish terrier running about there; and that breed is never friendly with strangers.”
There was a piano being played somewhere in the house; the touch was sure and soft, the air mournful and full of minors. They had listened but a moment, however, when Warwick entered the room.
There was a flush in his cheeks and an excited sparkle in his eyes; as he spoke his voice shook a little as though not perfectly under control.
”Thank you,” he said, eagerly, as he shook hands. ”I am glad that you have come.”
”Something has happened?”
”Yes. A special delivery letter came for Dr. Morse about an hour ago. A few moments after receiving it I heard him shouting aloud in the library, and apparently smas.h.i.+ng things in his rage.”
”Did you go to him?”
”No. When he is that way, we have found it a better plan to leave him alone. After venting his rage in the way I have just mentioned, he rushed from the place.”
Ashton-Kirk did not immediately comment upon this; his eyes were upon the man clipping the hedge.
”Who is that?” asked he.
Warwick followed his glance.
”Oh, a young fellow whom the doctor employs about the place. He is a Pole, and came about a month ago; he seems very intelligent, and I know he is hard up. Morse knew his father somewhere, I believe.”
”I see.” The speaker turned from the window.
<script>