Room 13 Read Online Free Page B

him.
    “I am not going to be sorry for myself,” he said with a smile, and stretching out his hand, gripped Kane’s arm. “You’ll not have another vendetta on your hands, Peter. I have an idea that Emanuel Legge will keep you busy–”
    He stopped suddenly. The ill-fitted butler had made a stealthy appearance.
    “Peter,” he began in his husky whisper, “he’s come. Do you want to see him?”
    “Who?”
    “Emanuel Legge – uglier than ever.”
    Peter Kane’s face set, mask-like.
    “Where is Miss Marney – Mrs Floyd.”
    “She’s gettin’ into her weddin’ things and falderals for the photogrypher,” said Barney. “She had ’em off once, but the photogrypher’s just come, and he’s puttin’ up his things in the front garden. I sez to Marney–”
    “You’re a talkative old gentleman,” said Peter grimly. ‘Send Emanuel through. Do you want to see him, Johnny?”
    John Gray rose.
    “No,” he said. “I’ll wander through your alleged rosary. I want nothing to remind me of The Awful Place, thank you.”
    Johnny had disappeared through an opening of the box hedge at the lower end of the lawn when Barney returned with the visitor.
    Mr Emanuel Legge was a man below middle height, thin of body and face, grey and a little bald. On his nose perched a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. He stood for a second or two surveying the scene, his chin lifted, his thin lips drawn in between his teeth. His attire was shabby, a steel chain served as a watch-guard, and, as if to emphasise the rustiness of his wrinkled suit, he wore boots that were patently new and vividly yellow. Hat in hand, he waited, his eyes slowly sweeping the domain of his enemy, until at last they came to rest upon his host.
    It was Peter Kane who broke the deadly silence.
    “Well, Emanuel? Come over and sit down.”
    Legge moved slowly toward his host.
    “Quite a swell place, Peter. Everything of the best, eh? Trust you! Still got old Barney, I see. Has he reformed too? That’s the word, ain’t it – ‘reformed’?”
    His voice was thin and complaining. His pale blue eyes blinked coldly at the other.
    “He doesn’t go thieving any more, if that is what you mean,” said Peter shortly, and a look of pain distorted the visitor’s face.
    “Don’t use that word; it’s low–”
    “Let me take your hat.” Peter held out his hand, but the man drew his away.
    “No, thanks. I promised a young friend of mine that I wouldn’t lose anything while I was here. How long have you been at this place, Peter?”
    “About fourteen years.”
    Peter sat down, and the unwelcome guest followed his example, pulling his chair round so that he faced the other squarely.
    “Ah!” he said thoughtfully. “Living very comfortable, plenty to eat, go out and come in when you like. Good way of spending fourteen years. Better than having the key on you four o’clock in the afternoon. Princetown’s the same old place – oh, I forgot you’d never been there.”
    “I’ve motored through,” said Peter coolly, deliberately, and knew that he had touched a raw place before the lips of the man curled back in a snarl.
    “Oh, you’ve motored through!” he sneered. “I wish I’d known; I’d have hung my flags out! They ought to have decorated Princetown that day, Peter. You drove through!” he almost spat the words.
    “Have a cigar?”
    Emanuel Legge waved aside the invitation.
    “No, thanks. I’ve got out of the habit – you do in fifteen years. You can get into some, too. Fifteen years is a long time out of a life.”
    So Emanuel had come to make trouble, and had chosen his day well. Peter took up the challenge.
    “The man you shot would have been glad of a few – he died two years after,” he said curtly, and all the pent fury of his sometime comrade flamed in his eyes.
    “I hope he’s in hell,” he hissed, “the dirty flattie!” With an effort he mastered himself. “You’ve had a real good time, Peter? Nice house, that wasn’t bought