Читать книгу Special Detective (Ashton-Kirk) онлайн

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“You should not be about,” said Campe, anxiously. “And perhaps it would be best if a doctor saw you.”

The girl smiled sweetly. Her teeth were magnificent; and her lips were scarlet.

“Some stunner, eh?” whispered Bat Scanlon to Ashton-Kirk.

“To be about is the best thing I can do,” said Miss Knowles. Then with a mischievous look, “Mr. Kirk will think I’m quite an invalid.”

She was really a splendid creature, large and beautifully formed; her complexion, her eyes, the great crown of yellow hair and the flowing white gown gave her the appearance, backed as she was by the grey trophy-hung wall, of having stepped out of a mediæval picture—the stately lady of some great baron, or the daughter of a belted earl.

“Invalids seem rather plenty hereabouts,” said Ashton-Kirk with a quiet smile. “But none of them at all resembled you, Miss Knowles.”

It seemed, to the eyes of Bat Scanlon, that a change came into the beautiful face—a subtle something, swift as the thought that occasioned it, and gone as quickly.