J. J. Bell

“ Now what have you to say?”
“If—if the house were to become uninhabitable,” mumbled Lismore.
“Uninhabitable! How?”
“F-fire.”
Stormont laughed. 'Oh, Lord, man, don't be so crude!”
“I'm desperate, Stormont!”
“So am I. Only I draw the line at being idiotic. No, my friend, unless you can evolve a more brilliant scheme, you must let me be leader. It may not be such a difficult thing, after all, to trace young Grant. He must have at least one correspondent in New York—the person who forwarded the inexplicable fifteen hundred to Rufus. ”

“ But you had better have a chat with Lottie first thing in the morning. Only you must bear in mind that she is Miss March's friend—sincerely devoted, no doubt. Again, she was—and still may be—more or less attached to young Grant. So you will have to go warily.”
FOR the first time during the interview Lismore's eyes rested on his partner. Until that unhappy last interview with Rufus Cran, Stormont had been paying apparent attentions to Lottie. Were these attentions at an end?
“I will do what I can,” said Lismore. “Lottie will certainly never betray Joan March.” ”

“ However, if you can suggest how we may get at the platinum without the presence of Grant or that precious middle strip, I'm ready to follow your lead.”
Lismore was mute.
“And we don't even know,” Stormont went on, “that the hoard is within the walls of Elm House. We naturally think of it as there, because our late friend, since first we knew him, lived there and, so far as we are aware, owned no other place of residence. But how are we going to satisfy ourselves on the point? Since Miss March has refused the invitation to Atlantic City, the thing looks pretty hopeless. ”