The Leavenworth Case by Anna Katharine Green (best books to read all time TXT) 📕

XXIV. A REPORT FOLLOWED BY SMOKE “Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits Where Hope is coldest, and Despair most sits.” —All’s Well that Ends Well.

WHEN I told Mr. Gryce I only waited for the determination of one fact, to feel justified in throwing the case unreservedly into his hands, I alluded to the proving or disproving of the supposition that Henry Clavering had been a guest at the same watering-place with Eleanore Leavenworth the summer before.

When, therefore, I found myself the next morning with the Visitor Book of the Hotel Union at R—— in my hands, it was only by the strongest effort of will I could restrain my impatience. The suspense, however, was short. Almost immediately I encountered his name, written not half a page below those of Mr. Leavenworth and his nieces, and, whatever may have been my emotion at finding my suspicions thus confirmed, I recognized the fact that I was in the possession of a clue which would yet lead to the solving of the fearful problem which had been imposed upon me.

Hastening to the telegraph office, I sent a message for the man promised me by Mr. Gryce, and receiving for an answer that he could not be with me before three o’clock, started for the house of Mr. Monell, a client of ours, living in R——. I found him at home and, during our interview of two hours, suffered the ordeal of appearing at ease and interested in what he had to say, while my heart was heavy with its first disappointment and my brain on fire with the excitement of the work then on my hands.

I arrived at the depot just as the train came in.

There was but one passenger for R——, a brisk young man, whose whole appearance differed so from the description which had been given me of Q that I at once made up my mind he could not be the man I was looking for, and was turning away disappointed, when he approached, and handed me a card on which was inscribed the single character “?” Even then I could not bring myself to believe that the slyest and most successful agent in Mr. Gryce’s employ was before me, till, catching his eye, I saw such a keen, enjoyable twinkle sparkling in its depths that all doubt fled, and, returning his bow with a show of satisfaction, I remarked:

“You are very punctual. I like that.”

He gave another short, quick nod. “Glad, sir, to please you. Punctuality is too cheap a virtue not to be practised by a man on the lookout for a rise. But what orders, sir? Down train due in ten minutes; no time to spare.”

“Down train? What have we to do with that?”

“I thought you might wish to take it, sir. Mr. Brown”—winking expressively at the name, “always checks his carpet-bag for home when he sees me coming. But that is your affair; I am not particular.”

“I wish to do what is wisest under the circumstances.”

“Go home, then, as speedily as possible.” And he gave a third sharp nod exceedingly business-like and determined.

“If I leave you, it is with the understanding that you bring your information first to me; that you are in my employ, and in that of no one