satisfied himself with a significant look at the number on the door. “Room 23 it is, I seen her with my own eyes. Now you,” he demanded, glaring at Oliver, “you got a woman in here with you?”
“Certainly I have,” Oliver returned. He made a gesture toward Garnet, who was standing at one side. “This lady,” Oliver continued, “is my wife. Have you something to say to her?”
The two visitors looked at Garnet. Mr. Maury was suffering agonies. But Mr. Kimball gazed unabashed, his eyes going up and down her figure with a fleshly interest that would have roused her fury even if Florinda had not been hiding in the wardrobe. With Oliver at her side, she was not frightened as she had been in the supper-room last night. She gave him the stare Miss Wayne had taught her. It was a gaze of insulted dignity, calculated to reduce its victim to ashes.
The man was used to out-yelling opponents, but he had never tried to out-stare the graduate of a young ladies’ academy. He bore Garnet’s eyes a moment, then he began to get even redder than he naturally was. He cleared his throat, looked down at his shoes, flicked his toe at a speck of dust on the carpet, and looked up again.
“Well, I seen skirts!” he declared defiantly.
Oliver did not reply. Garnet did not shift her eyes.
But as though the sound of his own voice had given him courage, Mr. Kimball went on. “I seen skirts, and I seen ’em come in here. And I seen ’em to be green skirts.” He nodded solemnly. “Green they was.”
Oliver glanced around at Garnet’s plain navy blue dress. He smiled slightly.
“I hardly think,” he said, “that we men can be blamed for making mistakes about ladies’ apparel. If you have passed this door during the morning, you may have seen Mrs. Hale entering the room.”
“There now,” exclaimed Mr. Maury, “I told you! Mrs. Hale, I do beg your pardon.”
“There ain’t nobody else in here, is there?” demanded Mr. Kimball, stepping across the threshold and peering around.
Her success with her eyes gave Garnet courage to use her voice. “Will you kindly get out of my bedroom?” she requested coldly.
“He’s not going to trouble you, my dear,” Oliver assured her. He came over and put his arm around her shoulders. Standing thus he turned his head toward the red-faced man. “Step back to the other side of that door,” he ordered.
Oliver was used to dealing with men of tougher makeup than this. The intruder obeyed him.
“Come on away!” Mr. Maury begged. “That woman’s not here. She can’t be. I told you!”
The burly man did not obey Mr. Maury. Standing just beyond the doorway, hands in his pockets, he surveyed the room. Garnet moved to sit down in a chair facing the door. Her teachers had prepared her for parlors and ballrooms; they had not dreamed, nor had she, how useful this same preparation would be in outwitting the law. She leaned back, drooping gracefully, like a helpless female trembling before big rude men.
Mr. Kimball began to speak to Oliver, uncomfortably.
“Well, maybe I’m wrong, sir. But we’re on the track of a desperate character. She lives in this here hotel, and I sure thought I seen her going in here.” He shuffled his feet. “Must have been one of the other rooms along here, likely.”
“Would you care to look in the other room of this suite?” Oliver asked. He brought the key from the bureau.
They waited while Mr. Kimball unlocked the hall door of the parlor. After a minute or two he came back.
“Ain’t nobody in there. Thank you, sir. Mighty good of you, co-operating like this. Sorry to have troubled you. But we got to do our duty, you understand.”
“Are you sure this woman is still in the building?” Oliver asked.
“Oh, she’s here, sir, no mistake. She came in last night, and she ain’t been out this morning. We’ve got men at all the doors. And one of our men’s gone into her room to wait, in case she should come back in there. She can’t get
“Certainly I have,” Oliver returned. He made a gesture toward Garnet, who was standing at one side. “This lady,” Oliver continued, “is my wife. Have you something to say to her?”
The two visitors looked at Garnet. Mr. Maury was suffering agonies. But Mr. Kimball gazed unabashed, his eyes going up and down her figure with a fleshly interest that would have roused her fury even if Florinda had not been hiding in the wardrobe. With Oliver at her side, she was not frightened as she had been in the supper-room last night. She gave him the stare Miss Wayne had taught her. It was a gaze of insulted dignity, calculated to reduce its victim to ashes.
The man was used to out-yelling opponents, but he had never tried to out-stare the graduate of a young ladies’ academy. He bore Garnet’s eyes a moment, then he began to get even redder than he naturally was. He cleared his throat, looked down at his shoes, flicked his toe at a speck of dust on the carpet, and looked up again.
“Well, I seen skirts!” he declared defiantly.
Oliver did not reply. Garnet did not shift her eyes.
But as though the sound of his own voice had given him courage, Mr. Kimball went on. “I seen skirts, and I seen ’em come in here. And I seen ’em to be green skirts.” He nodded solemnly. “Green they was.”
Oliver glanced around at Garnet’s plain navy blue dress. He smiled slightly.
“I hardly think,” he said, “that we men can be blamed for making mistakes about ladies’ apparel. If you have passed this door during the morning, you may have seen Mrs. Hale entering the room.”
“There now,” exclaimed Mr. Maury, “I told you! Mrs. Hale, I do beg your pardon.”
“There ain’t nobody else in here, is there?” demanded Mr. Kimball, stepping across the threshold and peering around.
Her success with her eyes gave Garnet courage to use her voice. “Will you kindly get out of my bedroom?” she requested coldly.
“He’s not going to trouble you, my dear,” Oliver assured her. He came over and put his arm around her shoulders. Standing thus he turned his head toward the red-faced man. “Step back to the other side of that door,” he ordered.
Oliver was used to dealing with men of tougher makeup than this. The intruder obeyed him.
“Come on away!” Mr. Maury begged. “That woman’s not here. She can’t be. I told you!”
The burly man did not obey Mr. Maury. Standing just beyond the doorway, hands in his pockets, he surveyed the room. Garnet moved to sit down in a chair facing the door. Her teachers had prepared her for parlors and ballrooms; they had not dreamed, nor had she, how useful this same preparation would be in outwitting the law. She leaned back, drooping gracefully, like a helpless female trembling before big rude men.
Mr. Kimball began to speak to Oliver, uncomfortably.
“Well, maybe I’m wrong, sir. But we’re on the track of a desperate character. She lives in this here hotel, and I sure thought I seen her going in here.” He shuffled his feet. “Must have been one of the other rooms along here, likely.”
“Would you care to look in the other room of this suite?” Oliver asked. He brought the key from the bureau.
They waited while Mr. Kimball unlocked the hall door of the parlor. After a minute or two he came back.
“Ain’t nobody in there. Thank you, sir. Mighty good of you, co-operating like this. Sorry to have troubled you. But we got to do our duty, you understand.”
“Are you sure this woman is still in the building?” Oliver asked.
“Oh, she’s here, sir, no mistake. She came in last night, and she ain’t been out this morning. We’ve got men at all the doors. And one of our men’s gone into her room to wait, in case she should come back in there. She can’t get
Similar Books
