The Thinking Machine Collected Stories Part 234

The Thinking Machine Collected Stories Part 234

That was all. For a long time there was silence. Dollie Merediths pretty face was radiant and her eyes were fastened on her father. Mr. Meredith glanced at her, cleared his throat several times, then arose and offered his hand to d.i.c.k Herbert.


"I have done you an injustice, sir," he said gravely. "Permit me to apologise. I think perhaps my daughter--"


That was superfluous. Dollie was already beside d.i.c.k, and a rousing, smacking, resounding kiss echoed her fathers words. d.i.c.k liked it some and was ready for more, but Dollie impetuously flung her arms around the neck of The Thinking Machine, and he-pa.s.sed to his reward.


"You dear old thing!" she gurgled. "Youre just too sweet and cute for anything."


"Dear me! Dear me!" fussed The Thinking Machine. "Dont do that. It annoys me exceedingly."


Some three months later, when the search for George Francis Hayden had become only lukewarm, this being three days before Miss Merediths wedding to d.i.c.k Herbert, she received a small box containing a solitaire ring and a note. It was brief:


In memory of one night in the woods and of what happened there, permit me to give this-you cant return it. It is one of the few things honest money from me ever paid for.


Bill, the Burglar.


While Dollie examined the ring with mingled emotions d.i.c.k stared at the postmark on the package.


"Its a corking good clew," he said enthusiastically.


Dollie turned to him, recognising a menace in the words, and took the paper which bore the postmark from his hands.


"Lets pretend," she said gently-"lets pretend we dont know where it came from!"


d.i.c.k stared a little and kissed her.