" Application at the stable brought the first
frown to Crosby's brow. He could not rent a "rig" until after the
funeral, and that would make it too late for him to catch the four
o'clock train for Chicago. To make the story short, twelve o'clock saw
him trudging along the dusty road covering the two miles between town
and Austin's place, and he was walking with the rapidity of one who has
no love for the beautiful.
The early spring air was invigorating, and it did not take him long to
reduce the distance. Austin's house stood on a hill, far back from the
highway, and overlooking the entire country-side.
The big red barn stood in from the road a hundred yards or more, and he
saw that the same driveway led to the house on the hill. There was no
time for speculation, so he hastily made his way up the lane. Crosby had
never seen his client, their business having been conducted by mail or
through Mr. Rolfe. There was not a person in sight, and he slowed his
progress considerably as he drew nearer the big house. At the barn-yard
gate he came to a full stop and debated within himself the wisdom of
inquiring at the stables for Mr.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25