The Oldest Flame by Elisabeth Grace Foley Read Free Book Online Page B

transparent not to have betrayed some underlying
agitation or anticipation connected with the plot beforehand. On
the contrary, he had been consumed with Rose and Emery that whole
evening, and had barely seemed to notice his father’s existence.
No, if Mark was responsible, he had acted alone.
    But something just did not fit…
    A step on the path roused Mrs. Meade from her
meditations. She looked up to see Steven Emery approaching.
    “Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Emery,” she
said.
    “Good afternoon,” said Emery, as he stopped
by the bench. He indicated the seat with a gesture. “May I?”
    Mrs. Meade acquiesced at once and he sat
down. He also looked, she observed, as if he had been thinking over
something that puzzled or concerned him. He looked at her for a
moment as if he had a question he was weighing whether or not to
ask her, and then he spoke.
    “Mrs. Meade,” he said, “I heard something
this afternoon which frankly astonished me. Is it true that the
sheriff suspects Mark Lansbury of having set fire to the house the
other night?”
    “How did you hear that?” said Mrs. Meade, her
thoughts going at once to Rose.
    “I went over to the site of the house this
afternoon, to see if I might be of some use to the men who are
salvaging what they can. Sheriff Royal and his deputy have been
over there nearly all day searching for clues. As I was going up
the walk, I heard the sheriff speaking in a loud voice somewhere
just around the corner of the ruins. From what he said, I
gathered—but I could hardly believe it.” He added, “I also heard
the sheriff mention your name, as if he had discussed it with you,
so I wondered if you might be able to tell me something more.”
    “There isn’t much more to tell, I’m
afraid—beyond the fact that he is suspected.”
    “But on what grounds?”
    “On the grounds of something overheard,
curiously enough,” said Mrs. Meade, and Steven Emery smiled a
little as though accepting a reproof. “It was something one of the
maids heard Mark say, in the midst of the confusion that
night.”
    She seemed to hesitate, and then went on in a
lower voice, as if sharing a confidence, “You see, Mr. Emery…Mark
is at a rather difficult time, for him. He’s an impetuous boy, and
he wants to prove himself at something—anything. Only the other day
he was telling me he wished for some opportunity, some ‘trial by
fire’ to pass through so he could prove himself by it.”
    Emery looked amazed. “He said that ?”
    “Yes, I’m afraid he did.”
    “What an extraordinary coincidence,” said
Emery, slowly. “But Mrs. Meade, if he spoke that plainly—of course
I wouldn’t presume to dictate to you, but—don’t you think that
someone ought to be told ?”
    “Sheriff Royal knows all that there is to
know,” said Mrs. Meade simply.
    “It’s really too bad,” said Steven Emery,
shaking his head. He looked over at Mrs. Meade with a regretful
half-smile. “I would have to be a very blind man indeed not to see
that Mark regards me with less than friendly feelings, but I can’t
help liking him in spite of it. I suppose all we can hope is that
they won’t be too hard on him.”
    He stood up, and looked toward the hotel. “I
had better be getting back,” he said. “Thank you for telling me all
of this.”
    “You’re welcome,” said Mrs. Meade. “And Mr.
Emery—you won’t…say anything about this just yet, will you?”
    Their eyes met as she spoke, and Steven Emery
looked as if he understood. “No,” he said. “I won’t speak of it to
anyone.”
    When he had gone Mrs. Meade sat alone for a
little longer. But the lengthening afternoon was growing cooler and
she had brought no shawl, so presently she rose and went back to
the hotel.
    She met Andrew Royal on the last turn of the
path. The sheriff had a streak of soot on the end of his nose, and
sundry other smudges on his clothes in spite of evident efforts to
brush them off. And from the way he eyed her, and waited a