Scarlet Imperial Read Online Free Page A

letter, a telegram. Word from Towner! The box was in New York; Towner too must be here. Again the buzzer sounded. She moved quickly, taking up the box and putting it on her closet shelf, pushing it behind the hatboxes there. Although it was only Franz. She turned off the bedroom light as she went out, turning off the top living room light as she passed through to the foyer. The place looked like a Christmas tree.
    She opened the door. It wasn’t Franz. It was the blue-eyed man, Gavin Keane. She was so astounded to see him there that she had no reaction to seeing him there. Her steps backwards into the room were automatic. He followed. It was he who closed the door.
    Under that spell of astonishment she cried, “What are you doing here?” Only then did she realize; there was only one reason for him to be here.
    He didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t dressed for evening, he was wearing the brown tweeds he’d worn in the office and he was more rain-soaked than he had been earlier. He stood there looking at her, his eyes narrowed on her. He said, “I’ve come for my box.”
    He was definite; he knew she had brought it here. She needed time to know what to do. She began, “How did you—ever—”
    He said, “I called your boss. He gave me your address—”
    If she could only delay him until she could reach Towner Clay. But she didn’t know where Towner was. She shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. Franz brought you up.” He’d passed the twin Cerberus.
    He laughed. “They seemed to think you were expecting me.”
    She could understand that. He was tall and fair and decidedly handsome; even in the rain-bedraggled state; they would approve of her having a young man like this. They regretted she didn’t have a young man. They wouldn’t notice his eyes. They were too good to know of bad.
    “They let me use the house phone.”
    And he’d feigned using it. Why hadn’t he really rung up? Because he wasn’t sure of her; because even in certainty of her harmlessness he retained skepticism.
    “I’m sorry.” He was in good humor. “If you’ll give me the box, I’ll be away before you can say Jack Robinson. Your beau’ll never know.”
    There wasn’t any beau. He needn’t know. He had no suspicion that she cared what was in the box; he accepted her as the secretary even as he had earlier. She must make a delay. She said, “I’m very sorry—”
    She broke off as the house phone sounded.
    A belated query from Richards; conscience intruding in his romantic old heart. “Excuse me a moment,” she said. “Won’t you sit down?”
    “I’m too rainy.”
    The house phone was in the game room. She answered. It was Richards. “There’s a man down here looking for Mr. Keane. Do you want him to come up?” Richards didn’t sound enthusiastic. He didn’t want her and her young man interrupted.
    She said, “Just a moment.” Gavin Keane couldn’t have brought along an accomplice; there was no reason for it. He expected her to hand over the box. Even if he anticipated trouble he wouldn’t need a gunsel. He could handle her unaided. She didn’t know who could be below, who could know Gavin Keane was here. She was a little fearful. But this might mean the delay she needed. She called out, “Are you Mr. Keane?” The blue-eyed man came through the living room to stand at the entrance of the game room. For a moment his eyes were curious on her, then he said, “Yes, I’m Gavin Keane. What is it?”
    “There’s a man downstairs looking for you.”
    Good humor had gone. He spoke quickly, and as softly as if the man fourteen floors below might overhear, “Find out who it is. What it is.”
    She spoke into the phone. “What’s his name, Richards?” She waited.
    Richards said, “He’s got something to deliver to Mr. Keane.”
    She relayed, “He has something for you, Mr. Keane.” The quiver that went over her wasn’t stilled by the look on Gavin Keane’s face. He ordered in undertone, “Find out what