Explore "Paul Quentin" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Dugdale went across the park to Silverdale. He had plenty to occupy his mind. As time went on the problem was becoming more and more acute. Up to the present, things had gone favourably for him. It was just as well that he had come face to face at last with his mysterious employer. As far as he could tell, Quentin had not followed him with any sinister intention. Evidently he was in the neighbourhood on business bent. It was only a coincidence that on coming to purchase Lady Sunningdale's jewels he had found his agent under Lord Passmore's roof. This would give Dugdale an opportunity of studying the man whom he had learnt to dislike and fear.
He packed his traps and despatched them by a servant to their destination. All he had to do now was to say goodbye to Mary Pearson. He was glad to find her alone on the terrace sitting in a shady nook reading a book. She glanced up with a smile as he approached, and Dugdale thrilled as he saw the look in her eyes. As a rule, she looked proud and distant. It was only when she smiled that she was transformed.