When these estimable maidens had finished, Anthony Trent knew all those particulars he desired. It was not the first time amiable gossips had aided him. But he played his part so well that Miss Fannie chided her sister.
“He wasn’t a bit interested in the Dangerfield wealth,” she said. “All a young man like that thinks of is golf.”
“Well,” said her sister, “I am interested and I’m frightened, too. When I think of all that amount of precious stones in the hotel safe, I’m positively alarmed. Every night she wears something new, her maid told the girl who looks after our rooms.”
CHAPTER XVIII
THE GREAT BLACK BIRD
THERE was exactly one week to the night of the fancy dress dance at the Uplands from the time that the Northend sisters gave the abstractor so much information. Every moment of it was carefully taken up by that calculating gentleman.
For example, on the following morning, Wednesday he played a round with the club’s champion, an amateur of some skill. Dangerfield posing for the moment as a warm admirer of the local player, followed the two on their match, betting freely on Blackhall, his clubmate. Also, he violated every rule of the royal and ancient game by speaking as Trent made his strokes. Never in his ten years of golf had Trent played such a game. It was characteristic of him to do his best when conditions were worst.
When the game was over at the thirteenth hole Dangerfield turned crossly to Blackhall.
“You played a rotten game!” he said.
“I never played a better,” that golfer exclaimed. “The whole trouble with me was that I was up against a better man.”
It may be observed that Blackhall was a sportsman.