She chattered away as though
the world after all contained nothing more serious for her than for any
other girl. Duncombe hated to strike another note, yet he knew that
sooner or later it must be done.
"You are quite sure that you will not have anything else?" he asked.
"Absolutely, thanks! I have never enjoyed anything so much in my life."
He glanced at his watch. It was half-past eleven.
"I am afraid," he said, "that I am going to be a nuisance to you, but
one's friends often are that. I want to be your friend. I want to prove
myself such. I am not an inquisitive person, by any means, but fate has
declared that I should be your inquisitor. There are some questions
which I am bound to ask you."
Her face grew suddenly grave.
"There is so little," she murmured, "which I can tell you."
"We shall see," he answered. "In the first place, Lord Runton has been
here. He is one of my oldest friends, and a very good fellow. He came to
tell me that Von Rothe had been robbed in his house of some valuable
papers. He came partly to ask my advice. All the time I was sitting
opposite to him, with those papers in my pocket."
She looked at him strangely.
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