Four Strange Women Read Online Free

what she had meant to give, and Gwen hasn’t too much of the ready, and she never runs bills—how she was going to carry on the business, and she told Gwen all about it, and how you were seeing Colonel Glynne to-morrow to fix it all up, and then Miss Farrar would join you, only that didn’t mean the shop was going to shut down.”
    â€œBut why did Miss Barton want you to tell me all this at this time of night?” Bobby asked. “You understand I shall have to report to Colonel Glynne, to Scotland Yard as well. They may want to see both you and Miss Barton.”
    â€œThat’s O.K. with us,” his visitor answered. “There’s nothing more, only Billy Baird.”
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œWell, we’re pals, you see, me and Billy,” Lord Henry explained; and if his rich, deep tones that seemed almost a language in themselves, did not now tremble with the deep adoration that before had vibrated in every syllable, yet none the less they showed a deep and genuine emotion, “we’ve been pals ever since we were kids at the same prep school. It was through Billy I met Gwen. Gwen likes him, too.”
    He paused. Bobby, looking at him, saw that he had become a little pale, saw that enormous mouth of his quiver at the corners, saw a small bead of perspiration trickle down the side of his nose and hang there, ridiculously suspended. Why, Bobby did not know, but the close air of the room seemed filled suddenly with dark and strange forebodings, and the shadows in the corners, as it were, to hide monstrous and incredible things. He said sharply, for he knew well there was more to come:—
    â€œYes. Well?”
    The answer came almost in a whisper, yet every syllable full and clear.
    â€œFirst there was Byatt and then there was Andy White and now Gwen thinks that perhaps Billy is going the same way.”

CHAPTER II
ACCIDENTAL
    Bobby remembered ruefully that Olive had sent him home with strict injunctions to get a good night’s rest so as to be sure to be looking his very best and brightest for his forthcoming interview with Colonel Glynne. It was fortunate that the arrangement was for him to dine at the colonel’s house in the evening—‘so that we can make each other’s acquaintance’, the colonel had written—and for the formal interview to take place the next morning. He could therefore leave London by a comparatively late train, so that he would be able to lie late in bed, provided, that is, he ever got there, which was beginning to seem to him increasingly doubtful.
    â€œMiss Barton is waiting outside, you said, didn’t you?” he asked. “Will you ask her to come in for a moment?”
    â€œRight-oh,” responded Lord Henry with alacrity, making for the door, and on the way knocking over a chair with a crash that Bobby fully expected would bring an indignant and protesting landlady on the scene.
    In the hall Lord Henry fell over the door mat, got the door open, called in what he meant for a whisper but that sounded like the leader of community singing giving out an announcement:—“I say, Gwen, old girl, can you come in for half a sec?”
    Further sounds suggested that Lord Henry had fallen either up or down the front door steps; and Bobby was a little glad to think he was leaving and would not have to face the reproaches of his landlady and his fellow lodgers over a nocturnal disturbance that was beginning to sound like a minor air raid. Then Lord Henry returned, ushering in a small, reluctant figure in a neat, close-fitting tweed costume.
    Bobby somehow had been expecting someone of what is called the ‘glamour’ type. His first impression now was of a shy, hesitating, rather ordinary-looking girl, not noticeable in any way except for the unusual pallor of her complexion. She did not seem to be much made up, except that her lips were unnaturally crimson. Like a small curved splash of red they