The Red Seal [11]
lovable bank cashier, whose knack of performing many a kindly act, unsolicited, had endeared him to friends and acquaintances alike. Kent had seen much of him after his return from France, for Jimmie's attention to Helen McIntyre had been only second to Kent's devotion to the latter's sister, Barbara. The two men had one bond in common. Colonel McIntyre disliked them and discouraged their calling, to the secret fury of both, but love had found a way - Kent's eyes kindled at the recollection of Barbara's half-shy, wholly tender reception of his ardent pleading.
Turnbull's courtship had met with a set-back where he had least expected it - Philip Rochester had fallen deeply in love with Helen and, encouraged by her father, had pressed his suit with ardor. Frequent quarrels between the two close friends had been the outcome, and Jimmie had confided to Kent, before the latter left on the business trip to Chicago from which he had returned that morning, that the situation had become intolerable and he had notified Rochester that he would no longer share his apartment with him, and to look for other quarters as quickly as possible.
So buried was Kent in his thoughts that he never heard Sylvester's knock, and it was not until the clerk stood at his elbow that he awoke from his absorption.
"A lady to see you, Mr. Kent," he announced. "Shall I show her in?"
"Certainly - her name?"
"She gave none." Sylvester paused on his way back to the door. "It is one of the Misses McIntyre."
"Good Lord!" Kent was on his feet, straightening his tie and brushing his rumpled hair. "Here, wait a minute "- clutching a whisk broom in a frantic endeavor to remove some of the signs of travel which still clung to him. But he had only opportunity for one dab at his left shoulder before Barbara entered the office. All else forgotten, Kent tossed down the whisk broom and the next instant he had clasped her hand in both of his, his eyes telling more eloquently than his stumbling words, his joy at seeing her again.
"This is a business call," she stated demurely, on you and Mr. Rochester." Her lovely eyes held a glint of mischief as she mentioned Kent's partner, then her expression grew serious. "I want legal advice."
"I am afraid you will have to put up with me," Kent moved his chair closer to the one she had selected by the desk. "Rochester is out of town."
"What!" Barbara sat bolt upright. "Where - where's he gone?"
"I don't know "- Kent pulled Rochester's letter out of his pocket and re-read it. "He did not mention where he was going."
Barbara stared at him; she had paled.
"When did Philip leave?"
"Last night, I presume." Kent tipped back his chair and pressed a buzzer; a second later Sylvester appeared in the doorway.
"Did Mr. Rochester tell you where he was going?" he asked the clerk.
"No, sir. Mr. Rochester stated that you had his address.
"I?" Kent concealed his growing surprise. "Did he leave any message for me, other than the letter?"
"No, sir.
"At what hour did he leave the office?"
"I can't say, sir; he was still here when I went away at five o'clock. He gave me a key to the office so that I could get in this morning." Kent remained silent, and he added, "Is that all, sir?"
"Yes, thanks," and the clerk retired.
As the door closed Barbara turned to Kent. "Have you heard about Jimmie Turnbull?"
Her voice was a bit breathless as she put the question, but Kent, puzzling over his partner's eccentric conduct, hardly noted her agitation.
"Yes. I saw the account just now in the morning paper," he answered. "A shocking affair. Poor Turnbull! He was a good fellow."
"He was!" Barbara spoke with unaccustomed vehemence, and looking at her Kent saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Impulsively he threw his arm about her, holding her close.
"My heart's dearest," he murmured fondly. "If there is anything - anything I can do -"
Barbara straightened up and winked away the tears. "There is," she said tersely. "Investigate Jimmie's death."
Kent gazed at her in
Turnbull's courtship had met with a set-back where he had least expected it - Philip Rochester had fallen deeply in love with Helen and, encouraged by her father, had pressed his suit with ardor. Frequent quarrels between the two close friends had been the outcome, and Jimmie had confided to Kent, before the latter left on the business trip to Chicago from which he had returned that morning, that the situation had become intolerable and he had notified Rochester that he would no longer share his apartment with him, and to look for other quarters as quickly as possible.
So buried was Kent in his thoughts that he never heard Sylvester's knock, and it was not until the clerk stood at his elbow that he awoke from his absorption.
"A lady to see you, Mr. Kent," he announced. "Shall I show her in?"
"Certainly - her name?"
"She gave none." Sylvester paused on his way back to the door. "It is one of the Misses McIntyre."
"Good Lord!" Kent was on his feet, straightening his tie and brushing his rumpled hair. "Here, wait a minute "- clutching a whisk broom in a frantic endeavor to remove some of the signs of travel which still clung to him. But he had only opportunity for one dab at his left shoulder before Barbara entered the office. All else forgotten, Kent tossed down the whisk broom and the next instant he had clasped her hand in both of his, his eyes telling more eloquently than his stumbling words, his joy at seeing her again.
"This is a business call," she stated demurely, on you and Mr. Rochester." Her lovely eyes held a glint of mischief as she mentioned Kent's partner, then her expression grew serious. "I want legal advice."
"I am afraid you will have to put up with me," Kent moved his chair closer to the one she had selected by the desk. "Rochester is out of town."
"What!" Barbara sat bolt upright. "Where - where's he gone?"
"I don't know "- Kent pulled Rochester's letter out of his pocket and re-read it. "He did not mention where he was going."
Barbara stared at him; she had paled.
"When did Philip leave?"
"Last night, I presume." Kent tipped back his chair and pressed a buzzer; a second later Sylvester appeared in the doorway.
"Did Mr. Rochester tell you where he was going?" he asked the clerk.
"No, sir. Mr. Rochester stated that you had his address.
"I?" Kent concealed his growing surprise. "Did he leave any message for me, other than the letter?"
"No, sir.
"At what hour did he leave the office?"
"I can't say, sir; he was still here when I went away at five o'clock. He gave me a key to the office so that I could get in this morning." Kent remained silent, and he added, "Is that all, sir?"
"Yes, thanks," and the clerk retired.
As the door closed Barbara turned to Kent. "Have you heard about Jimmie Turnbull?"
Her voice was a bit breathless as she put the question, but Kent, puzzling over his partner's eccentric conduct, hardly noted her agitation.
"Yes. I saw the account just now in the morning paper," he answered. "A shocking affair. Poor Turnbull! He was a good fellow."
"He was!" Barbara spoke with unaccustomed vehemence, and looking at her Kent saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Impulsively he threw his arm about her, holding her close.
"My heart's dearest," he murmured fondly. "If there is anything - anything I can do -"
Barbara straightened up and winked away the tears. "There is," she said tersely. "Investigate Jimmie's death."
Kent gazed at her in