Читать книгу The Green Archer онлайн

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"It is so very quiet and peaceful. I'm sure, daddy, you'll never be able to write your book when you get to America with all your business distractions and your engagements. And of course you couldn't write in a noisy town like London, which is almost as bad as New York."

"Quiet, is it?" said Mr. Howett feebly.

"You could hear an infinitive split," she said flippantly with a touch of her old buoyant spirit.

"I don't know that that's a bad idea, Val," said her father, leaning back and contemplating the ceiling. "And the rest would be good for you. It isn't a bad idea. I'll cable New York and see if it can be arranged. You're not afraid of ghosts?" he asked dryly, and she smiled.

"No, I'm not afraid of ghosts," was the quiet reply, "if by ghosts you mean the Green Archer."

"That is certainly a queer business." Mr. Howett shook his head. "I don't know Bellamy, but from what I've heard of him I should imagine that he's the last man in the world to be scared by anything except an income-tax official."