Bill’s game—damn good he was too; on the varsity his last two years.”
“I simply cannot make you understand what an absolute madman he was,” said Ginger Horton. “There was something else on the chair too—a pair of ice tongs it looked like.”
“Clamp, I suppose,” murmured Grand.
“ ‘Better safe than sorry, eh, Mrs. Norton?’ he said to me like a perfect maniac, and then he said, ‘Now I don’t want you to swallow this!’ and he dropped a raw egg into my mouth, grabbed up a lot of those weird instruments and rushed around the room, waving them over his head, and then out the door, yelling at the top of his lungs!”
“May have been called out on an emergency, you see,” said Guy, “happens all too often in that business from what I’ve seen of it.”
“What was he saying when he left, Ginger?” Agnes asked.
“Saying? He wasn’t saying anything. He was simply yelling. ‘Yaahh! Yaahh! Yaahh!’ it sounded like.”
“How extraordinary,” said Agnes.
“What was he saying?” Esther asked of Agnes.
“‘Yaahh, Yaahh,’” said Agnes quietly.
“Not like Bill,” said Guy, shaking his head. “Must have been called out on emergency, only thing I can make of it.”
“But surely the receptionist could have explained it all, my dear,” said Agnes.
“There was no receptionist, I tell you!” said Ginger Horton irately. “There was no one but him—and a lot of fantastic instruments. And the chair was odd too! I’m lucky to have gotten out of there alive!”
“Did she swallow the egg?” asked Esther.
“Esther, for Heaven’s sake!”
“What was that?” asked Grand, who seemed not to have heard.
“Esther wanted to know if Ginger had swallowed the egg,” Agnes said.
“Certainly not!” said Ginger. “I spit it right out. Not at first, of course; I was in a state of complete shock. ‘I don’t want you to swallow this!’ he said when he dropped it in, the maniac, so I just sat there in a state of pure shock while he raced around and around the room, screaming like a perfect madman!”
“Maybe it wasn’t an egg,” suggested Esther.
“What on earth do you mean?” demanded Ginger, quite beside herself. “It certainly was an egg—a raw egg! I tasted it and saw it, and some of the yellow got on my frock!”
“And then you filed a complaint with the authorities?” asked Agnes.
“Good Heavens, Agnes, I went straight to the police. Well, he could not be found! Disappeared without trace. Raving mad!”
“Bill Thorndike’s no fool,” said Grand loyally, “I’d stake my word on that.”
“But why did he disappear like that, Guy?” asked Agnes.
“May have moved his offices to another part of the city, you see,” Guy explained, “or out of the city altogether. I know Bill was awfully keen for the West Coast, as a matter of fact; couldn’t get enough of California! Went out there every chance he could.”
“No, he is not anywhere in this country,” said Ginger Horton with considerable authority. “There is absolutely no trace of him.”
“Don’t tell me Bill’s chucked the whole thing,” said Grand reflectively, “given it all up and gone off to Bermuda or somewhere.” He gave a soft tolerant chuckle. “Wouldn’t surprise me too much though at that. I know Bill was awfully fond of fishing too, come to think of it. Yes, fishing and tennis—that was Bill Thorndike all right.”
XVII
“B UT YOU JUST cannot go off like that, Guy,” said Agnes, truly impatient with the boy now when he rose to leave. “Surely you shan’t!”
“Can and must, my dears,” Guy explained, kissing them both. “Flux, motion, growth, change—those are your great life principles. Best keep pace while we can.
He bent forward and took fat Ginger’s hand in his own. “Yes, I’ll be moving on, Ginger,” he said with a warm smile for her, expansive now, perhaps in anticipation, “pushing down to Canaveral and out Los Alamos way!”
“Good Heavens,” said Agnes,
“I simply cannot make you understand what an absolute madman he was,” said Ginger Horton. “There was something else on the chair too—a pair of ice tongs it looked like.”
“Clamp, I suppose,” murmured Grand.
“ ‘Better safe than sorry, eh, Mrs. Norton?’ he said to me like a perfect maniac, and then he said, ‘Now I don’t want you to swallow this!’ and he dropped a raw egg into my mouth, grabbed up a lot of those weird instruments and rushed around the room, waving them over his head, and then out the door, yelling at the top of his lungs!”
“May have been called out on an emergency, you see,” said Guy, “happens all too often in that business from what I’ve seen of it.”
“What was he saying when he left, Ginger?” Agnes asked.
“Saying? He wasn’t saying anything. He was simply yelling. ‘Yaahh! Yaahh! Yaahh!’ it sounded like.”
“How extraordinary,” said Agnes.
“What was he saying?” Esther asked of Agnes.
“‘Yaahh, Yaahh,’” said Agnes quietly.
“Not like Bill,” said Guy, shaking his head. “Must have been called out on emergency, only thing I can make of it.”
“But surely the receptionist could have explained it all, my dear,” said Agnes.
“There was no receptionist, I tell you!” said Ginger Horton irately. “There was no one but him—and a lot of fantastic instruments. And the chair was odd too! I’m lucky to have gotten out of there alive!”
“Did she swallow the egg?” asked Esther.
“Esther, for Heaven’s sake!”
“What was that?” asked Grand, who seemed not to have heard.
“Esther wanted to know if Ginger had swallowed the egg,” Agnes said.
“Certainly not!” said Ginger. “I spit it right out. Not at first, of course; I was in a state of complete shock. ‘I don’t want you to swallow this!’ he said when he dropped it in, the maniac, so I just sat there in a state of pure shock while he raced around and around the room, screaming like a perfect madman!”
“Maybe it wasn’t an egg,” suggested Esther.
“What on earth do you mean?” demanded Ginger, quite beside herself. “It certainly was an egg—a raw egg! I tasted it and saw it, and some of the yellow got on my frock!”
“And then you filed a complaint with the authorities?” asked Agnes.
“Good Heavens, Agnes, I went straight to the police. Well, he could not be found! Disappeared without trace. Raving mad!”
“Bill Thorndike’s no fool,” said Grand loyally, “I’d stake my word on that.”
“But why did he disappear like that, Guy?” asked Agnes.
“May have moved his offices to another part of the city, you see,” Guy explained, “or out of the city altogether. I know Bill was awfully keen for the West Coast, as a matter of fact; couldn’t get enough of California! Went out there every chance he could.”
“No, he is not anywhere in this country,” said Ginger Horton with considerable authority. “There is absolutely no trace of him.”
“Don’t tell me Bill’s chucked the whole thing,” said Grand reflectively, “given it all up and gone off to Bermuda or somewhere.” He gave a soft tolerant chuckle. “Wouldn’t surprise me too much though at that. I know Bill was awfully fond of fishing too, come to think of it. Yes, fishing and tennis—that was Bill Thorndike all right.”
XVII
“B UT YOU JUST cannot go off like that, Guy,” said Agnes, truly impatient with the boy now when he rose to leave. “Surely you shan’t!”
“Can and must, my dears,” Guy explained, kissing them both. “Flux, motion, growth, change—those are your great life principles. Best keep pace while we can.
He bent forward and took fat Ginger’s hand in his own. “Yes, I’ll be moving on, Ginger,” he said with a warm smile for her, expansive now, perhaps in anticipation, “pushing down to Canaveral and out Los Alamos way!”
“Good Heavens,” said Agnes,
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