A Fool and His Money by George Barr McCutcheon
page 64 of 416 (15%)
page 64 of 416 (15%)
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"Can't you see me?" she asked. I looked intently at the spot from which
the sound seemed to come: a perfectly solid stone block less than three feet from my right shoulder. It must have been very amusing. She laughed again. I flushed resentfully. "Where are you?" I cried out rather tartly. "I can see you quite plainly, and you are very ugly when you scowl, sir. Are you scowling at me?" "I don't know," I replied truthfully, still searching for her. "Does it seem so to you?" "Yes." "Then I must be looking in the right direction," I cried impolitely. "You must be--Ah!" My straining eyes had located a small, oblong blotch in the curve of the tower not more than twenty feet from where I stood, and on a direct line with my balcony. True, I could not at first see a face, but as my eyes grew a little more accustomed to the darkness, I fancied I could distinguish a shadow that might pass for one. "I didn't know that little window was there," I cried, puzzled. "It isn't," she said. "It is a secret loop-hole, and it isn't here except in times of great duress. See! I can close it." The oblong blotch abruptly disappeared, only to reappear an instant later. I was beginning to understand. Of course it was in the beleaguered east wing! |
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