“That’s what Holworthy said, or words to that effect. He had the dates all down pat.” Then his face grew grave. “You may laugh at it if you like, but I think it is a very important clue and one that is apt to be a big factor in the solution of the case.”
“If you are basing your hopes of winning the money on a wad of unmarked sheets of newspapers, I’ll get it from Holworthy and spend it for you now.” Storm laughed a trifle grimly. “You two are a couple of nuts over this thing! I hope Holworthy will leave his theories behind him when he hits the woods trail with me!”
Millard took the hint and rose.
“You’ll see!” he declared. “How about lunch?”
Storm shook his head.
“Sorry. Like to, old man, but I’m turning my books over to an associate to-morrow and I’m up to my ears in work. By the way, I’ve dismissed my gardener, MacWhirter, who has been looking after the house out at Greenlea. It really doesn’t require a caretaker, you know, and he has got a job as assistant ground keeper at the club.”
“He is a very good man,” Millard observed. “He kept your garden in wonderful shape in the old days. How proud your poor wife was of her flowers!—Well, I’ll run on. Hope I shall see you again before you start on your trip, but if I don’t, I wish you the best of luck!”
“And you, with your wager,” Storm called after him. “Remember, the money and the man, Millard!”
When the door had closed he sprang from his chair. Leila and her flowers! Would no one let him forget? On a sudden impulse he had told Millard a modified version of MacWhirter’s defection in order to silence any idle gossip which might spring up at the club and in so doing he had brought that tactless reminder down about his own ears.
He could see her now in a soft cotton frock standing out under a towering old lilac bush, its top just burgeoning in clusters of misty lavender, the sun glinting down between the branches on her golden hair. When she was warm it used to curl in little moist tendrils about her forehead and the nape of her slender, white neck, and it felt like spun silk between one’s fingers. . . .