As she paused before him she threw back the broad front of the mysterious cape and said:
“You should know something about this, I am sure.”
“Beg pardon?” He started and Lucile thought she saw a sudden flush on his cheek.
“You should know something about this,” she repeated.
“Why, no, begging your pardon again,” he answered easily. “Having had no sisters and having never ventured into matrimony, I know almost nothing about women’s garments. I should say, though, that it was a fine cape, a corking fine one. You should be proud of it, really you should.”
This was all said in such a serious tone, and yet with such a concealed touch of mockery in it, that Lucile abruptly turned away. Plainly there was nothing to be learned from him concerning the mystery, at least not at the present moment.
As she turned, her eyes chanced to fall upon a stack of books that stood by the end of the table.
“Well, well!” she exclaimed. “There were two hundred books in that stack last night! Now they are at least a third gone!”
“Yes,” Laurie smiled, and in his smile there was a look of personal interest. “Yes, they are going very well indeed. We shall need to be ordering more soon. You see, it’s the critics. They say it is a good book, an especially good book for young folks. I can’t say as to that. It sells, I can assure you of that, and is going to sell more and more.”
As Lucile made her way to the cloak room, she was reminded of a rumor that had passed through the department on the previous day. The rumor had it that Jefrey Farnsworth, the author of this remarkable book “Blue Flames,” (of which she and Laurie had just been speaking, and which was proving to be a best seller in its line and threatening to outsell the latest popular novel) had disappeared shortly after the publication of his book.