"
"That's better."
"If I'd killed a man and needed a friend to help me out, I'd go straight
to Mortimer; he's got that kind of eyes. Do you know why he's doing my
work to-day?"
"Because you're away, I suppose."
"Because you recited that doggerel about The Run of Crusader."
"Alan! I've never spoken to Mr. Mortimer."
"That's why he choked the butcher the night of the concert--I mean--"
"You're talking nonsense, Alan."
"I'm not, I know when a man's interested. Hello. Blest if the Boss
isn't coming this way--there's Crane. See, Allis? I've a notion to
tell him that his trainer is a crook."
"No, you won't, Alan--you're too young to gabble."
Philip Crane had evidently intended going higher up in the stand, but
his eye lighting on the brother and sister, he stopped, and turned in to
where they were sitting.
"Good afternoon, Miss Porter."
Allis started. Was the stand possessed of unpleasant voices? There was
a metallic ring in Crane's voice that affected her disagreeably. He was
almost a stranger to her; she hardly remembered ever having spoken to
him.
He turned and nodded pleasantly to Alan, saying, "May I take this seat?
I'm tired. The Cashier let you oft for the day, eh?" he continued.
Pages:
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58