CHAPTER XXVIII
Mock Rose
TAKING the dazed young man by the hand, as though he had been a child, the Reverend Mr. Wright led Alan back to his study and established him in a comfortable armchair beside his desk.
At the elbow of the Reverend Mr. Wright a telephone shrilled. With a gesture of professional patience he turned to the instrument, lifted the receiver to his ear, and spoke in musically modulated accents:
"Yes; this is Mr. Wright. … Ah, you, Mr. Digby. … Not coming? But, my dear sir, Mr. Law is already here. I must tell you"
"If you please," Alan begged, "let me speak to Digby at once. Forgive me"
Reluctantly the minister surrendered the telephone.
"That you, Digby?"
"Alan! Bless my soul, what are you doing over there?"
"Rose? What about her?" Alan demanded, stammering with anxiety.
"Why—one of my spies has just reported by telephone. He saw a young woman—either Rose or
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