The House of a Thousand Candles | Page 9

she turned carelessly toward me, and our eyes met for
an instant. Very likely she was Pickering's sister, and I tried to
reconstruct his family, which I had known in my youth; but I could not
place her. As she walked out before him my eyes followed her--the
erect figure, free and graceful, but with a charming dignity and poise,
and the gold of her fair hair glinting under her black toque.
Her eyes, as she turned them full upon me, were the saddest, loveliest
eyes I had ever seen, and even in that brilliant, crowded room I felt
their spell. They were fixed in my memory indelibly--mournful,
dreamy and wistful. In my absorption I forgot Larry.
"You're taking unfair advantage," he observed quietly. "Friends of
yours?"
"The big chap in the lead is my friend Pickering," I answered; and

Larry turned his head slightly.
"Yes, I supposed you weren't looking at the women," he observed dryly.
"I'm sorry I couldn't see the object of your interest. Bah! these men!"
I laughed carelessly enough, but I was already summoning from my
memory the grave face of the girl in black--her mournful eyes, the glint
of gold in her hair. Pickering was certainly finding the pleasant places
in this vale of tears, and I felt my heart hot against him. It hurts, this
seeing a man you have never liked succeeding where you have failed!
"Why didn't you present me? I'd like to make the acquaintance of a few
representative Americans--I may need them to go bail for me."
"Pickering didn't see me, for one thing; and for another he wouldn't go
bail for you or me if he did. He isn't built that way."
Larry smiled quizzically.
"You needn't explain further. The sight of the lady has shaken you. She
reminds me of Tennyson:
" 'The star-like sorrows of immortal eyes--'
and the rest of it ought to be a solemn warning to you, --many 'drew
swords and died,' and calamity followed in her train. Bah! these women!
I thought you were past all that!"
[Illustration: She turned carelessly toward me, and our eyes met for an
instant.]
"I don't know why a man should be past it at twenty-seven! Besides,
Pickering's friends are strangers to me. But what became of that Irish
colleen you used to moon over? Her distinguishing feature, as I
remember her photograph, was a short upper lip. You used to force her
upon me frequently when we were in Africa."
"Humph! When I got back to Dublin I found that she had married a
brewer's son--think of it!"

"Put not your faith in a short upper lip! Her face never inspired any
confidence in me."
"That will do, thank you. I'll have a bit more of that mayonnaise if the
waiter isn't dead. I think you said your grandfather died in June. A
letter advising you of the fact reached you at Naples in October. Has it
occurred to you that there was quite an interim there? What, may I ask,
was the executor doing all that time? You may be sure he was taking
advantage of the opportunity to look for the red, red gold. I suppose
you didn't give him a sound drubbing for not keeping the cables hot
with inquiries for you?"
He eyed me in that disdain for my stupidity which I have never suffered
from any other man.
"Well, no; to tell the truth, I was thinking of other things during the
interview."
"Your grandfather should have provided a guardian for you, lad. You
oughtn't to be trusted with money. Is that bottle empty? Well, if that
person with the fat neck was your friend Pickering, I'd have a care of
what's coming to me. I'd be quite sure that Mr. Pickering hadn't made
away with the old gentleman's boodle, or that it didn't get lost on the
way from him to me."
"The time's running now, and I'm in for the year. My grandfather was a
fine old gentleman, and I treated him like a dog. I'm going to do what
he directs in that will no matter what the size of the reward may be."
"Certainly; that's the eminently proper thing for you to do. But--but
keep your wits about you. If a fellow with that neck can't find money
where money has been known to exist, it must be buried pretty deep.
Your grandfather was a trifle eccentric, I judge, but not a fool by any
manner of means. The situation appeals to my imagination, Jack. I like
the idea of it-- the lost treasure and the whole business. Lord, what a
salad that is! Cheer up, comrade! You're as grim as an owl!"
Whereupon we fell to talking of people and places we had known in

other lands.
We