Page:Czecho-Slovak Student Life, Volume 18.djvu/158

ing Miss Gordon, who was the daughter of the owner of the Gordon Hotel. It was a privilege for one to hear that voice and George Bandas took great pride in being the favored individual.

“Happened to see something on the way which might interest you” resumed the girl in her rapid yet lingering sentences. “You know that old Baker’s ice-house by the old gravel-pit! Well, as we were crossing the bridge, I happened to look that way and spied a man in a yellow shirt who ducked inside when the train came up”.

“Well, what about it?” asked George teasingly.

“What about it? I hope you haven’t forgotten about the convent burglary so fast. Anyhow, I haven’t. It may, of course, be only a scruple of mine, but I suggest that you go and give that pile of rubbish the once over. You might possibly get a clue to the missing valuables. It’s only a week since the burglary occurred, and you know how upset the Sisters are over the loss”.

She hung up and went downstairs for her mail. There were three letters for her, and among the many others there was one for the newcomer—the interesting, blue-eyed poet who had rented a room five days ago. And then she remembered—a disquieting recollection! Hilair Kabel wore a tan shirt the first day he came. Now, was that Kabel in the old ice-house by the river! And if it was, did he know anything about the theft? Or, if innocent, would the sheriff hold him as a suspect now that she had called his attention to it? This was annoying—very! How should she find out?

Her father’s sedan stood at the curb. She decided to hop in and put it to good use immediately. Ten minutes later she was skipping down the sandy bank towards the chattering Hern. The man, whoever he was, must still have been there, for his coat hung over a bush. To ascertain whether her guesses were correct she slipped her hand into the inner coat-pocket and produced a pack of odd papers. A formal looking document with a Notary Public’s seal and Hilair Kabel’s signature upon it confirmed her apprehensions. She slipped the packet back and tip-toed towards the old building.

Kabel was so engrossed with his find that he did not notice Claire’s approach until she stood in the doorway fully silhouetted in the glare of the setting sun.

“Why, Mr. Kabel! What are you doing here with those things?” she asked nervously, pointing at the two objects in his hands.

He laid those aside without even taking his eyes off the girl, and in a calm, friendly tone commanded her: “Just stand where you are lest you ruin that marvelous setting”. And reclining backwards, he sat attentively admiring her profile in the profuse sunlight—from her head haloed with inflamed brown hair, to her lithe body shrouded in silk summer garments, and her shapely legs and shoes. {{nop{{