Page:The Blind Bow-Boy (IA blindbowboy00vanv).pdf/224

 She rose slowly, still scrutinizing the painting which held her fancy.

No. What? Her manner was preoccupied.

Moving pictures. Angel. Apartment. Riverside Drive.

My dear Bunny, I believe you are a detective. Do you know who he is?

Yes, I do. His tone was hard and there was a challenge to interrogation in it. Nevertheless, Campaspe did not ask the question Bunny expected to hear.

Where is she living? she queried, lightly.

The Lombardy.

Campaspe smiled. I think I'll send her a picture.

She won't like it. She wouldn't understand these. He swept his arm around in a vague gesture. It was characteristic of Bunny's movements that they were never definite and forceful.

Oh! I wouldn't send her one of these. I like them too well myself. I'll send her the pictures I take down when I hang these.

I'm sure she has plenty of pictures. The boy was actually malicious.

No doubt, but one can always use a few more. Possibly she cares for change as much as I do.

Campaspe did not carry out her threat. Instead, she made a resolution to call on Zimbule in a day or so. She had heard the story of Harold's