I'll do so at once."
Turning, the man waddled off, disappearing toward the back of the
house.
Alone, with neither hesitation nor a single backward glance at the
body of his ancient enemy, the little man swung about, walked quietly
to the front door, and as quietly let himself out.
He was of no mind to be called as a witness at a possible inquest; and
business of far greater import urged him, the real business of his
life, this: to discover the whereabouts of Marian Blessington with the
least avoidable delay.
His first cast having failed, he must now try to draw the son; and, if
possible, before the latter learned of his father's death.
Not until about to re-enter the car did he remember he had neglected
to secure Bayard's address from the butler. But he wouldn't turn back;
it could be ascertained elsewhere; Peter Kenny would either know it or
know where to get it.
To Peter's rooms he must of necessity return first of all; for it
would not much longer prove possible to go up and down and to and fro
upon Manhattan Island in a black silk dress-coat and flaming scarlet
small-clothes; to change was imperative.
"The Monastery," he directed, settling back into his seat.
It was now clear daylight: a morning of bright promise breaking over a
Town much livelier than it had been half an hour or so ago, with more
citizens abroad, some striding briskly to the day's work, some
trudging wearily from the night's.
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