Opposite the entrance to Mrs Clayton Vernon's grounds at Hillport Thomas
Chadwick slipped neatly, for all his vast bulk, off the swiftly-gliding
car. (A conductor on a car but not on duty would sooner perish by a
heavy fall than have a car stopped in order that he might descend from
it.) And Thomas Chadwick heavily crunched the gravel of the drive
leading up to Mrs Clayton Vernon's house, and imperiously rang the bell.
"Mrs Clayton Vernon in?" he officially asked the responding servant.
"She's _in_," said the servant. Had Thomas Chadwick been wearing his
broadcloth she would probably have added "sir."
"Well, will you please tell her that Mr Chadwick--Thomas Chadwick--wants
to speak to her?"
"Is it about the purse?" the servant questioned, suddenly brightening
into eager curiosity.
"Never you mind what it's about, miss," said Thomas Chadwick, sternly.
At the same moment Mrs Clayton Vernon's grey-curled head appeared behind
the white cap of the servant. Probably she had happened to catch some
echo of Thomas Chadwick's great rolling voice. The servant retired.
"Good-evening, m'm," said Thomas Chadwick, raising his hat airily.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182