He kissed his hand to them, looking far out
as the train gathered momentum. Again and again he kissed his hand to
the hat-waving trio.
It was too much. The strain of the afternoon had told even upon my own
iron nerves. I felt unequal at that moment to the simplest inquiry,
and plainly the situation was not one to attack in haste. I mean to
say, it was too pregnant with meaning. I withdrew rapidly from the
scene, feeling the need for rest and silence.
As I walked I meditated profoundly.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
From the innocent lips of Cousin Egbert the following morning there
fell a tale of such cold-blooded depravity that I found myself with
difficulty giving it credit. At ten o'clock, while I still mused
pensively over the events of the previous day, he entered the Grill in
search of breakfast, as had lately become his habit. I greeted him
with perceptible restraint, not knowing what guilt might be his, but
his manner to me was so unconsciously genial that I at once acquitted
him of any complicity in whatever base doings had been forward.
He took his accustomed seat with a pleasant word to me. I waited.
"Feeling a mite off this morning," he began, "account of a lot of
truck I eat yesterday. I guess I'll just take something kind of
dainty.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342