The Bungalow Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

declared, as she followed him out of the room.
    Outside in the sunshine, it felt like a typical spring morning. The air was warm and balmy. As Roger helped his companion into the car, his eyes rested for a moment on the low roof of The Bungalow. With a pang of pity he thought of the dead man lying stark beneath.
    The drive to Freshfield was not a long one; and it was accomplished for the most part in silence; as Roger drew up before the schoolhouse where the rehearsal as well as the performance was to take place, the vicar came forward and welcomed them.
    â€œAh, Lavington, this is good of you! And Miss Lavington, I presume,” anticipating Roger’s hesitating introduction. “Do you know”—as he helped the girl down and led the way across the school-yard— “that all last night my dreams were haunted by the fear that you would fail us at the last moment? It is so good of you to come to our assistance.”
    The girl smiled a little.
    â€œI was very glad to come, thank you,” she replied with more truth than the Rev. Cyril Thornton suspected.
    The new vicar of Freshfield was a slight, fair, clerical-looking young man; he was, of course, the centre of an enormous amount of interest among the unmarried ladies, old and young, of his parish; but so far he had shown no inclination to respond to their flattering attentions; to-night, however, he positively ignored them and constituted himself the preux chevalier of the new and fascinating cousin of Roger Lavington’s.
    The new-comer was quite a success at the rehearsal; evidently her promise of being word-perfect was no empty boast, and her knowledge of the lines put to shame many of her fellow-performers who had been rehearsing for weeks. She made an attractive picture, too, in her kimono, her gleaming hair drawn off her face and piled high in the Japanese fashion. More than once Lavington scowled as he saw how the vicar’s blue eyes followed her every movement and how his lank, clerical figure was constantly to be seen during the interval in close attendance upon the Japanese tea-girl. At last, feeling distinctly annoyed and out of sorts, Roger made his way across to them, unceremoniously leaving pretty Elsie Thornton in the middle of a speech.
    Elsie’s eyes grew wistful as she watched him threading his way across the crowded school-room; almost unconsciously she had learnt to think a good deal of her brother’s friend; to-day she was learning the state of her own heart, and, at the same time, being shown the utter futility of those shy, sweet hopes that had been springing up of late.
    The vicar looked up with a smile as his friend approached.
    â€œAh, Lavington, I am trying to persuade Miss Lavington to take a different conception of these lines, do you see, when you come on, and she—-”
    â€œI think she does it remarkably well as it is,” Roger interrupted brusquely. “Come, Zoe, I am going to take you in to tea.”
    A sudden flush rose to the girl’s cheeks as she heard the masterful tone; for a moment she seemed inclined to hesitate, then she rose obediently.
    â€œThank you, Mr. Thornton; I will think over the alterations you suggest. Yes, Roger, I shall be glad of a cup of tea.”
    Lavington started as he heard her use his Christian name as naturally as if they were indeed the cousins they were assuming to be. He glanced down at her flushed, smiling face with a curious tightening feeling at his heart.
    â€œYou seem to like Thornton?” He had not in the least intended to say the words; they seemed to come without his own volition.
    The girl looked surprised.
    â€œHe is very kind,” she said simply.
    He drew her into an embrasure of the window, in which they were practically alone, as he supplied her with tea.
    â€œI think— Can you manage to be ready to catch the eight o’clock train to-morrow morning? I will drive you over to Overcroft Station.”
    She stood with