Unexpected Night by Elizabeth Daly Read Free Book Online Page A

glittering toothbrush case. “He never even took his toothbrush. Well, that’s all there is in the bag, far as I can see. Don’t these things—” He felt around the bottom edges of the lining, seized a tiny loop of ribbon, and pulled. “Not much secret about this.”
    â€œOnly a compartment for valuables.” Gamadge craned to look. “One pair of platinum cuff links, pearl evening studs, old-fashioned tiepin, probably his father’s.”
    â€œHe don’t seem to have set much value on his things.” Mitchell began to replace the fittings, and had just finished when somebody knocked.
    â€œWho’s there?” he demanded, hastily forcing the last objects into their places, and closing the lid.
    â€œSanderson.”
    â€œCome right in, Mr. Sanderson. I was waiting for you.”

CHAPTER FOUR
Gamadge Assists
    S ANDERSON CAME INTO the room like a man who has been in a hurry for so long that he cannot stop when the rush is over. The loosely hung door banged and rattled shut behind him; he crossed the room in two strides, flung himself into the chair from which Gamadge had risen, pulled out a wilting handkerchief, and dabbed his hot face with it. Gamadge retreated to the broad window ledge, where he sat in silence. Formal condolences would have been out of place; they might come later, when the young man had regained his breath and his balance. Mitchell also waited, placidly rocking.
    â€œHot over there at the Centre.” Sanderson at last put away the handkerchief, and ran a hand over his light hair.
    â€œHave a drink of water, Mr. Sanderson,” suggested Mitchell. “You look just about all in.”
    â€œI am.” He glanced about the room as if wondering how he came to be sitting there, seemed to become aware of Gamadge for the first time, and said doubtfully: “Are you—didn’t I see you at the Barclay cottage last night?”
    â€œYes. My name’s Gamadge.”
    â€œOf course. Excuse me for behaving as if I had taken leave of my senses. It was ghastly over there at the Centre this morning. The poor old Colonel had a bad time of it.”
    â€œI don’t envy you the experience,” said Gamadge.
    â€œIf only those two women can get through without crashing! I don’t know how to face them.”
    â€œWe didn’t hear it was any fault of yours,” said Mitchell.
    â€œThey may think it was. I never said a word to Mrs. Cowden about the boy’s plan for cutting loose to-day. I hadn’t the heart. He trusted me absolutely—or I thought he did.” Sanderson’s face expressed self-disgust. “I might have known he wouldn’t have felt he could really trust anyone. He knew we were all dead against his going up there to the Cove. He simply told me enough to keep me from watching him, and made other arrangements with Atwood behind my back.”
    â€œYou think he had this getaway last night all planned, then?”
    â€œWhat else can I think? What was he doing down on the cliff, unless he was meeting Atwood? I suppose he was afraid that if he waited till morning I’d go on arguing, and he’d weaken, and give the whole thing up. And, of course, he could hardly wait to get there.”
    â€œBut if his arrangements were all made, why did he try and get in touch with Atwood last night?”
    â€œI’m beginning to think that he wasn’t really trying to. I think that telephone call was camouflage, for my benefit. He wanted me to think that Atwood was settled up there at the Cove, and that the original plan stood for to-day. It all shows,” and Sanderson gave them a wry smile, “how completely I had fallen down on my job.”
    â€œI wouldn’t say that. What’s your reason for this theory of yours?”
    â€œWell, he made a call while we were at Portsmouth.”
    â€œHe did?”
    â€œYes. He was alone in his room for a while—I thought he was asleep.