"There's no duplicate of it in the world," he said, "else it
would have come to old Max M'Leod;" and he tucked it into the
motor. Miss M'Leod on the far side of the car whispered, "Have
you found out anything, Mr. Perseus?"
I shook my head.
"Then I shall be chained to my rock all my life," she went on.
"Only don't tell papa."
I supposed she was thinking of the young gentleman who
specialised in South American rails, for I noticed a ring on the
third finger of her left hand.
I went straight from that house to Burry Mills Hydro, keen for
the first time in my life on playing golf, which is guaranteed to
occupy the mind. Baxter had taken me a room communicating with
his own, and after lunch introduced me to a tall, horse-headed
elderly lady of decided manners, whom a white-haired maid pushed
along in a bath-chair through the park-like grounds of the Hydro.
She was Miss Mary Moultrie, and she coughed and cleared her
throat just like Baxter. She suffered--she told me it was a
Moultrie castemark--from some obscure form of chronic bronchitis,
complicated with spasm of the glottis; and, in a dead, flat
voice, with a sunken eye that looked and saw not, told me what
washes, gargles, pastilles, and inhalations she had proved most
beneficial.
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