"None at all,
Mr. Harley," she replied. "The doctor has already told me of--"
"You know why I ask?" She inclined her head.
"And Mr. Nicol Brinn? Have you met this gentleman?"
"Never. I know that Dad had met him and was very much interested
in him."
"In what way?"
"I have no idea. He told me that he thought Mr. Brinn one of the
most singular characters he had ever known. But beyond describing
his rooms in Piccadilly, which had impressed him as
extraordinary, he said very little about Mr. Brinn. He sounded
interesting and "--she hesitated and her eyes filled with
tears--"I asked Dad to invite him home." Again she paused. This
retrospection, by making the dead seem to live again, added to
the horror of her sudden bereavement, and Harley would most
gladly have spared her more. "Dad seemed strangely disinclined to
do so," she added.
At that the keen investigator came to life within Harley. "Your
father did not appear anxious to bring Mr. Brinn to his home?" he
asked, eagerly.
"Not at all anxious. This was all the more strange because Dad
invited Mr. Brinn to his club."
"He gave no reason for his refusal?"
"Oh, there was no refusal, Mr. Harley. He merely evaded the
matter. I never knew why."
"H'm," muttered Harley. "And now, Miss Abingdon, can you
enlighten me respecting the identity of the Oriental gentleman
with whom he had latterly become acquainted?"
Phil Abingdon glanced rapidly at Doctor McMurdoch and then
lowered her head.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77