“Baron Steuben received no more than his due when Congress granted him lands and honours,” she was saying to Ashton-Kirk. “But Count Hohenlo was overlooked disgracefully.”
“He had little popular or official recognition,” replied the crime specialist. “But he lived in the hearts of those who knew him, and they wrote him down in their memories as a gallant soldier, a true friend and a lover of freedom.”
Then Miss Hohenlo talked of the letters written by the old hero; of the journals he had kept in court and camp; of his plans and intentions; of his adventures. Her eyes were no longer dull; her plain face was full of spirit; her gestures, no longer affected, were sharp and stirring. And while she talked Miss Knowles was very quiet, listening with attention. And, as she did so, Mr. Scanlon watched her, speculatively.
“Still on the lookout,” mused the big man, “still with her eyes and ears open. I never saw any one stick closer to a job than she does. But what she hopes to get out of the talk of the maiden lady I can’t understand.”
After dinner, as Miss Hohenlo was passing from the room, Scanlon saw Ashton-Kirk overtake Miss Knowles as she was about to follow. The singular eyes of the crime specialist were fixed upon her face intently, and when he spoke his voice was so low-pitched that none but the girl could hear. But whatever it was he said, she turned pale and Bat saw her hands tremble. Then without a word of answer she cast a frightened look about her and disappeared. Ashton-Kirk turned to Campe.
“Perhaps you’d care for a game of billiards,” said he. Then seeing the young man’s surprised look, he added: “I’d be glad to join you myself, but I think I’ll have my hands rather full of other things. Your aunt would, I dare say, be delighted.”
Campe continued to look at the speaker for a moment, then he said slowly:
“Why, yes, very likely she would. She’s very clever with the cue, you know.”
Fifteen minutes later, as Ashton-Kirk and Scanlon sat in the library, the big man patiently awaiting the other’s pleasure, the click of the balls began to come from the billiard room. Ashton-Kirk stood up.
“Now,” said he, and Scanlon followed him into the hall. Quietly they went until they reached the door of the room where the tapestries hung. Here they entered and found Miss Knowles, pale, tall and with the frightened look still in her eyes, standing in the middle of the floor.