Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/217

Rh quired. For there were more snarls in that tangled fish-line of fate than he had any idea of.

"Then," he told me, "I'm going to take these things back to where they came from!"

"When?" I inquired, wondering if it would be safe to say that I regarded him as one grand little retriever.

"I'm going to do it right away," was his answer.

"And where are you going to take them?" was my next inquiry. I could even afford to laugh, he seemed so sure of himself, and his little pilgrimage seemed such a perfectly simple one.

"To the house you came out of before you stepped into my car," he told me as he reached for the bag.

"And have you any idea," I inquired, "of just what you'll bump into, in that house?"

"Perhaps not," he acknowledged. "But the uncertainty of it ather appeals to me!"

He seemed nettled by my listlessness. He was even ready to disregard my cynical laugh.

"And why are you doing all this?" I asked, with my eyebrows up.

"For the sake of your immortal soul!" was his altogether unexpected retort, as he reached over and touched the bell.