CHAPTER XIII
EVERYTHING FOR THE BEST
I
Jack glanced at the watch on his wrist. By the mercy of Allah there were fifty minutes yet. A whole fifty minutes yet to stay in heaven. And then. . . .
Suddenly hard set by thoughts which had no right to be there he looked up and away in the direction of Bridport House.
"There they go!" He gave the pavement artist a little prod.
"Who—goes—where?"
"Cousin Blanche and Cousin Marjorie."
True enough! Sublimely unconscious of two pairs of amused eyes upon them, Cousin Blanche and Cousin Marjorie were passing slowly by. As usual at that hour they were riding their tall horses. And they became their tall horses so remarkably well that they might have belonged to the train of Artemis. In the saddle, at any rate, Cousin Blanche and Cousin Marjorie looked hard to beat.
"Now for your precious theory," said the Tenderfoot with malice. "Here's your chance to hunt for the positive."
