Free The Man Who Bought London by Edgar Wallace Page B

he hesitated – ‘because he behaved badly to – a woman.’
    It seemed that an icy hand closed over Elsie’s heart, and for a few seconds she could hardly breathe. She felt the colour leave her face, and the room appeared blurred and indistinct.
    She lowered her face, and fingered the letters on the desk before her. ‘Indeed?’ she said politely. ‘That was – that was horrid of him!’
    She heard the telephone bell ring, and he took up the receiver.
    He exchanged a few words, then – ‘I shall be back shortly,’ he said. ‘Mr Grant wants to see me.’
    She nodded. Presently the door closed behind him with a click, and she dropped her head in her arms upon the table andburst into a passion of weeping. Love had indeed come into the life of Elsie Marion. It had all come upon her unawares, and with its light had brought its shadow of sorrow.

CHAPTER XI
    ‘Where are you going tonight, Vera?’
    Hermann Zeberlieff addressed the girl who stood by the window with a touch of asperity. The girl was standing by the window looking out across Park Lane to the Park itself. A cigarette glowed between her lips, and the soft, grey eyes were fixed far beyond the limit of human vision. She turned with a start to her half-brother and raised her dainty eyebrows as he repeated the question.
    A simple gown of black velvet showed this slim, beautiful girl to the best advantage. The delicate pallor of the face contrasted oddly with the full, red lips. The shapely throat was uncovered in the fashion of the moment, and the neck of the bodice cut down to a blunt V, showed the patch of pure white bosom.
    ‘Where am I going tonight?’ she repeated; ‘why, that’s a strange question, Hermann – you aren’t usually interested in my comings and goings.’
    ‘I’m expecting some men tonight,’ he said carelessly. ‘You know some of them – Leete is one.’
    She gave a little shudder.
    ‘A most unwholesome person,’ she said. ‘Really, Hermann, you have the most wonderful collection of bric-a-brac in the shape of friends I have ever known. They are positively futurist.’
    He scowled up at her. In many ways he was afraid of this girl, with her rich, drawling, southern voice. She had a trick of piercing the armour of his indifference, touching the raw places of his self-esteem. They had never been good friends, and only the provision of his father’s will had kept them together so long. Old Frederick Zeberlieff had left his fortune in two portions.The first half was to be divided equally between his son – the child of his dead wife – and the girl, whose mother had only survived her arrival in the world by a few hours.
    The second portion was to be again divided equally between the two, ‘providing they shall live together for a period of five years following my death, neither of them to marry during that period. For,’ the will concluded, ‘it is my desire that they shall know each other better, and that the bad feeling which has existed between them shall be dissipated by a mutual understanding of each other’s qualities.’ There were also other provisions.
    The girl was thinking of the will as she walked across to the fireplace, and flicked the ash off her cigarette upon the marble hearth. ‘Our menage as it is constituted ends next month,’ she said, and he nodded.
    ‘I shall be glad to get the money,’ he confessed, ‘and not particularly sorry to –’
    ‘To see the end of me,’ she finished the sentence. ‘In that, at least, we find a subject upon which we are mutually agreed.’
    He did not speak. He always came out worst in these encounters, and she puffed away in thoughtful silence.
    ‘I am going to the Technical College to a distribution of prizes,’ she said, and waited for the inevitable sarcasm.
    ‘The Southwood Institute?’ She nodded. ‘You are getting to be quite a person in the charitable world,’ he said, with a sneer. ‘I shall never be surprised to learn that you have become a