The Fate of Felix Brand. Kelly Florence Finch
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“Horrid creature! I know it’s all a mess of lies! No, I never heard of him before. Why do you ask? Do you know anything about him? Did Felix ever speak of him to you?”
“Only once – last Sunday,” Henrietta hesitated.
“What was it?” the other demanded. “What did he say? Oh, I knew you were keeping something from me! Tell me, Harry!”
“Truly, dear, it wasn’t anything of any consequence. It wasn’t about himself, or his business, so I suppose it’s all right for me to tell you. He only asked me, if any letters should come signed ‘Hugh Gordon,’ not to read them but to put them aside for him when he should return, because this man was likely to write confidentially about his own affairs. That’s all Mr. Brand ever said to me about him – the only time he’s ever mentioned the man’s name. But I thought maybe – it was just my own conjecture, you know – that maybe this Gordon is some dissipated relative, some black sheep of his family, whom Mr. Brand is trying to help.”
“Oh, I see through it all! It’s as plain as day!” cried Mildred impetuously. “This Gordon is a blackmailer who is trying to force money from Felix! I knew all the time there wasn’t a word of truth in that disgusting story! Felix has been helping him – perhaps he’s a cousin, or something, and he has demanded more and more money, and Felix has refused, and now in revenge he has done this! And he’s got Felix shut up somewhere to make him give in! That’s why I haven’t heard from him! Oh, it’s perfectly plain! The thing to do now is to find this horrible Hugh Gordon and make him tell where Felix is!”
The office boy entered to say that some reporters wanted to see Mr. Brand’s secretary. Henrietta was about to send back the message that as she knew nothing whatever of any consequence it was not worth while for her to see them, when Miss Annister interposed.
“No, Harry, let them come in,” she said. “Perhaps they will know something that we don’t.”
While the reporters questioned Henrietta they stole many a covert glance at Mildred Annister, who sat beside her, dignified and beautiful, her cheeks glowing and eyes brilliant with excitement, listening with intense interest.
Henrietta soon told them the little that she knew about the matter. Mildred waited until they had asked all the questions they could think of and then, leaning forward in her absorption and gazing intently at one of the group, she said: “Now tell us all that you know about this Hugh Gordon. I want to know all you can tell me, because I have a theory about him.”
Her intensity and eagerness roused the hope that perhaps here they might find something with which to embellish a story in which, so far, they had uncovered little to add to that of yesterday. But first they must know who this lovely girl was.
“You are a relative of Mr. Brand?” one of them hazarded.
“I am Mildred Annister, Dr. Philip Annister’s daughter, and I am Felix Brand’s promised wife.”
The instant ripple of interest among the reporters caused Mildred to shrink back in sudden self-consciousness, her face scarlet.
“But please don’t put that in the papers,” she went on. “It’s of no interest to anybody but us, and we don’t want the engagement announced yet. I told you so you would understand how much right I have to be interested. I am perfectly sure this dreadful creature, Hugh Gordon, is at the bottom of the whole business, that these charges in the papers this morning are nothing but revenge for his failure to blackmail Mr. Brand, and it is just as certain as can be that he has got Mr. Brand imprisoned somewhere, maybe drugged, and the thing for you to do now is to find this Gordon and make him tell where Felix is. Oh, please do!” she ended, with a sudden drop in her manner, her voice choking.
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