THE DISAPPEARING EYE.

 

 

 

 

 CHAPTER I.

A WEIRD DISCOVERY

 

"Adventures are to the adventurous," said Cannington, with the air of a man who believes that he is saying something undeniably smart.

"Good Lord!" I retorted, twisting the motor car round a corner. "Since when has the British subaltern given up his leisure to reading Beaconsfield's novels?"

Cannington serenely puffed his cigarette into a brighter glow. "I don't know what you're talking about, old chap," said he indifferently.

"I talk of 'Ixion in Heaven,' or--if you prefer it--of 'Coningsby.' Beaconsfield was so enamoured of his apothegm that he inserted it in both tales."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Cannington again, and his puzzled look proved that he spoke the truth. "A chap called Marr wrote that in my sister's album, and told her it was his own."

"I daresay; more ideas are stolen than pocket-handkerchiefs, according to Balzac. And, after all, Beaconsfield may have cribbed the saying."

"Oh! I see what you are driving at: Marr copied it out of a book."

"Undoubtedly, unless he lived before 'Coningsby' and 'Ixion' were written--somewhere about the beginning of the nineteenth century."

"Oh! Marr isn't so old as that," protested the boy, chuckling; "although he isn't a spring chicken, by any means. What Mabel sees in him, I can't for the life of me imagine."

"Humph! You were never renowned for imagination, 

 Prev. P 3/233 next