Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/299

 in her voice, the way it came off her lips, slowly, as though she were loath to let it go, caressingly, hesitatingly!

“What are you going to do with all that money?” Val asked.

“Me? Oh, I don’t know; just he happy, I guess. Poor old dad,” she murmured, recalling him to her mind by some chain of thought that Val could only guess at.

“Happy ” murmured Val. “If money could bring happiness, I guess I’d have much more than my share.”

“Haven’t you?” she asked.

He stared at her. “Not yet,” he said slowly. “I’m waiting for something ”

She had no answer to this, but the tip of a little ear turned rosy, and he knew that she understood. He was satisfied. Really, you know⸺

“Hampton!” shouted the conductor.

The party got off there. Val and Eddie looked around them sharply, but could discern no glimpse of their enemy.

“Thrown him off,” remarked Val.

“Maybe, sir,” disagreed Eddie. He was a pessimist; he always hoped for the worst, so that the best could surprise him.

Val looked at him quickly. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Did you see anything, old crêpe-hanger?”

Eddie shook his head. “Nothing, sir. But we haven’t seen the last of that bird yet.”

As a matter of fact, they hadn’t. Far back in the recesses of a store that looked out upon the car line, Teck was stationed, his bright eyes observing every-