Five Fatal Words by Edwin Balmer & Philip Wylie Page B
Authors: Edwin Balmer & Philip Wylie
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English--she has children."
"I know all that," said Granger, impatiently. "Then there's no more family--news."
"No news," assured Melicent honestly. After all, Donald's noticing of a possible peculiar arrangement of the family names was not news. "What news were you expecting?" she demanded of Granger.
"News of the next," said Granger, staring out at sea.
"Next what?"
"Next Cornwall to go."
"You mean you're expecting a next?"
"Aren't you?" rejoined Granger with his characteristic bluntness. "Aren't they all?
Now that it's started, do you suppose it's stopping with Daniel and Everitt when there's four more left?"
"What do you mean by 'it'?"
"Murder," said Granger. "You know it and so do I. That Cornwall will always was a perfect setup--a perfect motivation, if you prefer--for murder. It was only a question of time for some one to get around to it. The wonder is that it waited so long-forty years. . . I wish you could get it straight in your head that I'm on this job with you, Miss Waring. I'm playing the game with you all. Do you suppose I think it was an accident that Everitt Cornwall was killed when he stepped into the tub? Do you suppose I swallowed 'defective wiring' for that fire? But I kept still; I played the game. That's why I'm here now. I wanted to stick with you. Do you mind my telling you that ever since I saw you I haven't been able to get you off my mind?"
She flushed. "Why--"
"Never mind. Forget it. I have eyes; I see you with Donald Cornwall. But I haven't always been a pilot and at times a chauffeur--and I won't always be. I'm glad I'm along. Remember, if you ever get into trouble, give me a chance to help you."
"That's terribly kind of you, but I don't expect trouble for myself. Do you?"
"Who can tell," he returned, looking at her again instead of the sea, "what we're walking into?"
The ship docked at Havre and Melicent had her first glimpse of a foreign land.
From the rail, she stared at the unfamiliar shores as if they were enchanted. She tried to discover precisely what made them so strange and was only partially able to do so. No particular thing was very much different from America and yet every single house and tree and street and stone was faintly different. The net result was a complete divergence from the familiar scheme of things.
"Like it?"
She turned to see Donald Cornwall standing beside her.
"Very much."
"I like it, and I'll like land better than ever now."
"But you were never seasick."
"No, neither were you, but you were altogether too much with my aunt in the staterooms. I've missed you. I thought--ah, well. My thoughts are like feathers. They'd rest my head if I had enough of them--but I have only one and the wind can blow that away."
"Which means?"
He laughed. "Nothing. It means nothing. When a member of my generation of the Cornwall family says something that means something, it will be twelve o'clock on doomsday. I've been thinking over the decidedly suggestive arrangement of the family names which I mentioned to you the first day out. Forget it, will you?"
"Gladly," agreed Melicent, "if I could."
"Same here. Well, we'll soon enough know what--if anything--it means. We're driving from here to my Aunt Alice's--we've the Rolls aboard, you know. We ought to arrive to-morrow evening. Wait till you see my cousins. You'll enjoy motoring across northern France."
"Any news?" asked Melicent.
"News? No, no news, except that Aunt Alice has wired that she is delighted that we're arriving and she is ready for us. That's all the news just now."
Melicent did enjoy the ride across northern France. Granger drove at a rapid rate and had no trouble in finding the way. She was astonished to discover that he spoke French. She found her own brand of the language almost useless--certainly two years of school French could not cope with excitable townsmen who interspersed their words with sly compliments.
When they approached the home of Alice Cornwall,
"I know all that," said Granger, impatiently. "Then there's no more family--news."
"No news," assured Melicent honestly. After all, Donald's noticing of a possible peculiar arrangement of the family names was not news. "What news were you expecting?" she demanded of Granger.
"News of the next," said Granger, staring out at sea.
"Next what?"
"Next Cornwall to go."
"You mean you're expecting a next?"
"Aren't you?" rejoined Granger with his characteristic bluntness. "Aren't they all?
Now that it's started, do you suppose it's stopping with Daniel and Everitt when there's four more left?"
"What do you mean by 'it'?"
"Murder," said Granger. "You know it and so do I. That Cornwall will always was a perfect setup--a perfect motivation, if you prefer--for murder. It was only a question of time for some one to get around to it. The wonder is that it waited so long-forty years. . . I wish you could get it straight in your head that I'm on this job with you, Miss Waring. I'm playing the game with you all. Do you suppose I think it was an accident that Everitt Cornwall was killed when he stepped into the tub? Do you suppose I swallowed 'defective wiring' for that fire? But I kept still; I played the game. That's why I'm here now. I wanted to stick with you. Do you mind my telling you that ever since I saw you I haven't been able to get you off my mind?"
She flushed. "Why--"
"Never mind. Forget it. I have eyes; I see you with Donald Cornwall. But I haven't always been a pilot and at times a chauffeur--and I won't always be. I'm glad I'm along. Remember, if you ever get into trouble, give me a chance to help you."
"That's terribly kind of you, but I don't expect trouble for myself. Do you?"
"Who can tell," he returned, looking at her again instead of the sea, "what we're walking into?"
The ship docked at Havre and Melicent had her first glimpse of a foreign land.
From the rail, she stared at the unfamiliar shores as if they were enchanted. She tried to discover precisely what made them so strange and was only partially able to do so. No particular thing was very much different from America and yet every single house and tree and street and stone was faintly different. The net result was a complete divergence from the familiar scheme of things.
"Like it?"
She turned to see Donald Cornwall standing beside her.
"Very much."
"I like it, and I'll like land better than ever now."
"But you were never seasick."
"No, neither were you, but you were altogether too much with my aunt in the staterooms. I've missed you. I thought--ah, well. My thoughts are like feathers. They'd rest my head if I had enough of them--but I have only one and the wind can blow that away."
"Which means?"
He laughed. "Nothing. It means nothing. When a member of my generation of the Cornwall family says something that means something, it will be twelve o'clock on doomsday. I've been thinking over the decidedly suggestive arrangement of the family names which I mentioned to you the first day out. Forget it, will you?"
"Gladly," agreed Melicent, "if I could."
"Same here. Well, we'll soon enough know what--if anything--it means. We're driving from here to my Aunt Alice's--we've the Rolls aboard, you know. We ought to arrive to-morrow evening. Wait till you see my cousins. You'll enjoy motoring across northern France."
"Any news?" asked Melicent.
"News? No, no news, except that Aunt Alice has wired that she is delighted that we're arriving and she is ready for us. That's all the news just now."
Melicent did enjoy the ride across northern France. Granger drove at a rapid rate and had no trouble in finding the way. She was astonished to discover that he spoke French. She found her own brand of the language almost useless--certainly two years of school French could not cope with excitable townsmen who interspersed their words with sly compliments.
When they approached the home of Alice Cornwall,
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