Arrow Pointing Nowhere Read Online Free PDF Page B

the war?”
    â€œOh, the rule doesn’t apply to his book of views. That’s a family matter; he’d pay anything to get his picture back.”
    Gamadge took his departure. As soon as he reached home he put the parcel of books away in his office, and then called Miss Vauregard.
    â€œI have the information we need,” he said.
    â€œThen won’t you just dictate a letter, Henry? I’ll get a pencil.”
    When she returned to the telephone he had prepared a couple of notes. He said: “You’ll probably want to put in something about being sorry you never see them any more just to break the ice.”
    â€œI should think so!”
    â€œAnd you’ll want to ask how Mrs. Cort Fenway is getting along, that kind of thing. Then you might say: ‘My niece’s husband, Henry Gamadge, has been hearing about your American first editions from Jervis Hall, the bookseller, and he’s dying to see them. I think he buys books himself from Mr. Hall sometimes, in a modest way. If you’d care to call him up, I know he’d be much gratified. The trouble is, it would have to be rather soon, because he’s going away again on some war work.’”
    â€œOh, Henry,” wailed Miss Vauregard, “are you?”
    â€œWell, not immediately; that’s just to hurry him up a little. Then you might put in something about being quite fond of me, and what a nice intelligent fellow I am. But for Heaven’s sake don’t say anything about crime.”
    â€œCrime? Oh—your cases.”
    â€œMightn’t they scare him?”
    â€œWell—if he’s heard about them he’ll still be willing to meet you, for my sake; but he may not let you meet the family!”
    â€œI must try to make a good impression on him. And I can’t tell you how I appreciate this. Can’t begin to.”
    â€œIt’s all right, dear.”
    â€œYou’ll send it around by hand?”
    â€œHe’ll have it in an hour.” She paused. “Henry—you’re not getting some kind of occupational disease, I hope?”
    â€œWhat kind?”
    â€œThinking things are wrong when nothing is wrong?”
    â€œPerhaps I am. I’ll go carefully.”
    As the cocktail hour approached, Harold came into the library to find Gamadge sitting on the chesterfield in front of the fire, his cigarette going out between his fingers and his eyes fixed on vacancy. Harold asked: “Find out anything from Hall?”
    â€œMy message didn’t originate in his office. Fenway isn’t my client—he telephoned to Hall on Monday.”
    â€œSomebody standing over him with a gun, perhaps.”
    â€œThey wouldn’t risk it. He might get something to Hall in code. Lots of chances when you’re talking old books, as my message proves.”
    â€œI don’t think he can be the client.”
    The telephone rang. Harold went into the hall and brought the instrument back on its long cord. He said: “Mr. Blake Fenway to speak to Mr. Gamadge.”
    Gamadge said: “Mr. Fenway? This is Henry Gamadge speaking.”
    A pleasant voice replied: “I’m very glad to find you at home, Mr. Gamadge. I’ve just come in myself, and found a note from our dear Robina Vauregard. If you’re really interested in my books I shall be delighted to show them to you.”
    Gamadge said: “Thank you very much indeed. Miss Vauregard was here to lunch with us. She said she’d write.”
    â€œI have your charming books, and I shall be greatly honored to meet the writer. I hope Hall warned you that I’m a mere amateur at book collecting.”
    â€œWe’re all mere amateurs to J. Hall.”
    Fenway laughed. “You should see him looking for Melville and Poe among my Aldriches and Stocktons!”
    â€œThe only trouble is, Mr. Fenway, that I really have only a very few days—”
    â€œSo I understand. Could you make time tomorrow,