The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. “That is very nice of you,” she said. Only a book detective could dope this out. In the midst of the holy place, which he had formerly profaned, lay the body of his unfortunate mother, and he could not help looking upon her untimely end as the retributive vengeance of Heaven for the crime he had committed. ’ ‘She once more,’ came in disgust from the girl on the bed. ‘Your niece, ma’am. “That’s suicidal bullshit, Lucy.
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