But Henson's last words were enough for her. She gathered her skirts together and flew down the stairs. In the hall Williams stood, with a grin on his face, pensively scraping his chin with a dry forefinger.
"Now what's the matter, miss?" he cried.
"Don't ask questions," Enid cried. "Go and get me the champagne nippers. The champagne nippers at once. If you can't find them, then bring me a pair of pliers. Then come to me on the leads outside the bathroom. It's a matter of life and death."
CHAPTER XXI
A FIND
David did not appear in the least surprised; indeed, he was long since past that emotion. Before the bottom of the mystery was reached a great many more strange things were pretty sure to happen.
"So you bought that cigar-case yourself?" he said.
"Indeed, I did," Ruth answered, eagerly. "Of course I have long known you by name and I have read pretty well all your tales. I—I liked your work so much."
David was flattered. The shy, sweet admiration in Ruth's eyes touched him.
"And I was very glad to meet you," Ruth went on. "You see, we all liked your stories. And we knew one or two people who had met you, and gradually you became quite like a friend of ours—Enid and Chris and myself, you understand. Then a week or two ago I came down to Brighton with my uncle to settle all about taking the house here. And I happened to be in Lockhart's buying something when you came in and asked to see the cigar-case. I recognised you from your photographs, and I was interested. Of course, I thought no more of it at the time, until Enid came up to London and told me all about the synopsis, and how strangely the heroine's case in your proposed story was like hers. Enid wondered how you were going to get the girl out of her difficulty, and I jokingly suggested that she had better ask you. She accepted the idea quite seriously, saying that if you had a real, plausible way out of the trouble you might help her. And gradually our scheme was evolved. You were not to know, because of the possible danger to yourself."