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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Doings of Raffles Haw"

Leave me
alone, and I hope that you will never cross our threshold again."
"Is that your last word, Laura?"
"The last that I shall ever speak to you."
"Then, good-bye. I shall see the Dad, and go straight back to Plymouth."
He waited an instant, in hopes of an answer, and then walked sadly from
the room.


CHAPTER XV.
THE GREATER SECRET.

It was late that night that a startled knocking came at the door of
Elmdene. Laura had been in her room all day, and Robert was moodily
smoking his pipe by the fire, when this harsh and sudden summons broke
in upon his thoughts. There in the porch was Jones, the stout
head-butler of the Hall, hatless, scared, with the raindrops shining in
the lamplight upon his smooth, bald head.
"If you please, Mr. McIntyre, sir, would it trouble you to step up to
the Hall?" he cried. "We are all frightened, sir, about master."
Robert caught up his hat and started at a run, the frightened butler
trotting heavily beside him. It had been a day of excitement and
disaster. The young artist's heart was heavy within him, and the
shadow of some crowning trouble seemed to have fallen upon his soul.
"What is the matter with your master, then?" he asked, as he slowed down
into a walk.


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