“Of course I will,” he replied. “Honour bright! So fire away, Regina.”
So I did as he asked, and before we reached home, my brother was as fully versed in the whole details of the queer story as I was myself, inclusive of my own bit of adventure, the advent of the stranger; not to speak of a very fair amount of entirely groundless speculations which I had got into the habit of indulging in.
Chapter Six.
The Black Curtain.
Moore listened in almost breathless silence, only interrupted now and then by muttered ejaculations, and when I had finished he looked up, his eyes sparkling, and said solemnly—
“It’s as good as a haunted house any day, Reggie. I never heard such a jolly mystery. Close at hand too! I do wish I had been with you the day you got inside. I fancy I can see you and Isabel scuttering off like two frightened rabbits,” and here he broke out laughing.
This I did not altogether approve of.
“If you treat it in that way,” I said severely, “I shall wish I had not told you anything about it. It is no laughing matter, that I can see. It is terribly sad to think of these poor people being forced, or thinking they are forced, to lead such a life. I should be so glad to find out any way of helping them.”