Read Online Experiment in Crime by Philip Wylie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip Wylie
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existence, burst into laughter. "Father," she said, when she could, "is trying to sprout a pineapple." She pointed to its top--in a small, mulched bed. "Daddy, this is Martin Burke."
The judge said, "Delighted," fell to his knees, and began replacing the tilted plant.
"Tea is ready," he continued. "The next time you decide to kiss anybody, Marigold, for heaven's sake keep out of the flower beds. I told your mother it would root--and by gad, it's rooting!"
A short week ago, Professor Burke would have regarded even the idea of amorously kissing a young lady as something to be pushed into the nebulous future. A short week ago, he would have regarded being caught doing just that, by the girl's father, as a shocking catastrophe. He was, however, changing.
"I got lipstick on you," Marigold said. "Hold still."
Even this did not utterly dishevel him. He intended to kiss her again, at the earliest opportunity. He had tried to say that his intentions were honorable--idiotic phrase!--and he now saw that they were merely to kiss her.
Judge Macey satisfied himself that the pineapple was not ruined. He rose-and shook hands. "Don't be embarrassed," he said. "My daughter's impulses are familiar to the whole family. She's really quite a nice girl--though headstrong. Come in and meet my wife and my son, Steve."
This, in the professor's opinion, was both the civil and the mature way of looking at the matter.
"I hear," the judge went on, "that you're a New Englander. So are we.
Expatriates." No topic could have been more fortunate.
Throughout the tea which followed, they indulged in a kind of nostalgia--a fest of place names, of recipes, and of worrying over the spread of the Dutch elm disease on New England's commons. They found mutual friends--and, as was inevitable, Esperance Perthnot, who came to America just after the Mayflower and who was a remote ancestor of the Maceys as well as of the Burkes. Naturally, they invited the professor to stay for dinner; being a New Englander, he refused politely. Naturally, both he and his hosts realized that he would accept a later invitation.
When the professor had gone, stepping lightly into the bland dark, the judge said,
"Marigold, I really believe you're growing up. That's a very intelligent young man."
She regarded her father demurely, "He can neck like hell, too!" It was a boast rather than a fact.
The judge was a New Englander, but aware of modern trends. Hence he took no umbrage. He looked his daughter steadily in the eye. "Of course he can neck like hell.
Comes from good stock!"
"What were you and he talking about, when you spent so long showing him your den?"
The judge smiled. "He was asking my advice. Talking about what you called the--
other side of his personality."
"Was he? What'd he say?"
"Just put a hypothetical question. Asked me what I would do if I had inside facts which led me to suspect that a certain group of men were engaged in a particularly nefarious and antisocial activity. Would I report my suspicions to the authorities? Or would I continue my observations until I confirmed them beyond doubt?"
"And what did you advise?"
The judge picked up the evening paper and walked to his easy chair. "It was a pretty nebulous question. I told him that I thought the 'authorities' would tend to regard the suspicions of a person like himself with a good deal of doubt--unless he had some very convincing evidence. After all, a professor running around to the police station talking about 'antisocial activities'. . . ! These Miami cops probably wouldn't know what he meant."
"Isn't he exciting!"
"I'm reading," her father answered rather plaintively. "Exciting? Burke? Sound as a rock! Nothing exciting about the man. Good chap!"
Chapter XI
Professor Burke sat down in the sea. It was nearly midnight. It was Christmas Eve. It was no time for a man to be wading--and now sitting--in the pitch-black ocean off the Florida Keys. The water was lukewarm over the
The judge said, "Delighted," fell to his knees, and began replacing the tilted plant.
"Tea is ready," he continued. "The next time you decide to kiss anybody, Marigold, for heaven's sake keep out of the flower beds. I told your mother it would root--and by gad, it's rooting!"
A short week ago, Professor Burke would have regarded even the idea of amorously kissing a young lady as something to be pushed into the nebulous future. A short week ago, he would have regarded being caught doing just that, by the girl's father, as a shocking catastrophe. He was, however, changing.
"I got lipstick on you," Marigold said. "Hold still."
Even this did not utterly dishevel him. He intended to kiss her again, at the earliest opportunity. He had tried to say that his intentions were honorable--idiotic phrase!--and he now saw that they were merely to kiss her.
Judge Macey satisfied himself that the pineapple was not ruined. He rose-and shook hands. "Don't be embarrassed," he said. "My daughter's impulses are familiar to the whole family. She's really quite a nice girl--though headstrong. Come in and meet my wife and my son, Steve."
This, in the professor's opinion, was both the civil and the mature way of looking at the matter.
"I hear," the judge went on, "that you're a New Englander. So are we.
Expatriates." No topic could have been more fortunate.
Throughout the tea which followed, they indulged in a kind of nostalgia--a fest of place names, of recipes, and of worrying over the spread of the Dutch elm disease on New England's commons. They found mutual friends--and, as was inevitable, Esperance Perthnot, who came to America just after the Mayflower and who was a remote ancestor of the Maceys as well as of the Burkes. Naturally, they invited the professor to stay for dinner; being a New Englander, he refused politely. Naturally, both he and his hosts realized that he would accept a later invitation.
When the professor had gone, stepping lightly into the bland dark, the judge said,
"Marigold, I really believe you're growing up. That's a very intelligent young man."
She regarded her father demurely, "He can neck like hell, too!" It was a boast rather than a fact.
The judge was a New Englander, but aware of modern trends. Hence he took no umbrage. He looked his daughter steadily in the eye. "Of course he can neck like hell.
Comes from good stock!"
"What were you and he talking about, when you spent so long showing him your den?"
The judge smiled. "He was asking my advice. Talking about what you called the--
other side of his personality."
"Was he? What'd he say?"
"Just put a hypothetical question. Asked me what I would do if I had inside facts which led me to suspect that a certain group of men were engaged in a particularly nefarious and antisocial activity. Would I report my suspicions to the authorities? Or would I continue my observations until I confirmed them beyond doubt?"
"And what did you advise?"
The judge picked up the evening paper and walked to his easy chair. "It was a pretty nebulous question. I told him that I thought the 'authorities' would tend to regard the suspicions of a person like himself with a good deal of doubt--unless he had some very convincing evidence. After all, a professor running around to the police station talking about 'antisocial activities'. . . ! These Miami cops probably wouldn't know what he meant."
"Isn't he exciting!"
"I'm reading," her father answered rather plaintively. "Exciting? Burke? Sound as a rock! Nothing exciting about the man. Good chap!"
Chapter XI
Professor Burke sat down in the sea. It was nearly midnight. It was Christmas Eve. It was no time for a man to be wading--and now sitting--in the pitch-black ocean off the Florida Keys. The water was lukewarm over the
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