Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/125

Rh in from dinner the night that man Thompson was killed there—perhaps you remember about it?”

I nodded, smiling.

“Yes, I remember.”

Something in my face caught his attention.

“You mean you know something about it?” he asked quickly. But a movement of feet across the floor outside interrupted him. “We can’t talk here,” he said. “Will you be at home to-night?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll look you up,” and he turned to go.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “I’m not with Mrs. Fitch any more.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No—I’m quartered at the Marathon.”

“At the Marathon?”

“Yes—suite fourteen—Higgins will show you up.”

He stared at me an instant with starting eyes. Then the door opened and Mr. Royce came in, followed by two clerks.

“I’ll look for you this evening,” I added, hugely enjoying his stupefaction.

He nodded mechanically, and turned away, walking like a man in a dream.

“Well,” began Godfrey, as he settled back in his chair and looked around the room, “this is about the last place on earth I’d have expected to find you.”

“And yet it’s not so wonderful,” I pointed out. “I had to change my lodgings and found that these would suit.”

“It’s in your blood,” he went on, smiling. “It has