"Did my husband send you? When did you see him."
"Just now, at Tiffany's," answered Paul, significantly.
"What is his message?" asked Mrs. Montgomery, beginning to feel
uneasy.
Paul glanced at the landlady, who, in the hope of gratifying her
curiosity, maintained her stand by his side.
"The message is private," he said.
"I suppose that means that I am in the way," remarked the
landlady, sharply. "I don't want to pry into anybody's secrets.
Thank Heaven, I haven't got any secrets of my own."
"Walk in, young man," said Mrs. Montgomery.
Paul entered the room, and she closed the door behind him.
Meanwhile the landlady, who had gone part way downstairs,
retraced her steps, softly, and put her ear to the keyhole. Her
curiosity, naturally strong, had been stimulated by Paul's
intimation that there was a secret.
"Now," said Mrs. Montgomery, impatiently, "out with it! Why does
my husband send a message by you, instead of coming himself?"
"He can't come himself."
"Why can't he?"
"I am sorry to say that I am the bearer of bad news," said Paul,
gravely. "Your husband has been arrested for robbing me of a
diamond ring."
"Where is he?" demanded Mrs. Montgomery, not so much excited or
overcome as she would have been had this been the first time her
husband had fallen into the clutches of the law.
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