Sucks books

Except for the marble pallor of her face it was difficult to
believe that she was not sleeping. And yet there she was, the
famous Blanche Blaisdell, dead--dead in the little dressing-room
of the Novella Beauty Parlour, surrounded as in life by mystery
and luxury.
We stood for several moments speechless, stupefied. At last
O'Connor silently drew a letter from his pocket. It was written on
the latest and most delicate of scented stationery.
"It was lying sealed on the dresser when we arrived," explained
O'Connor, holding it so that we could not see the address. "I
thought at first she had really committed suicide and that this
was a note of explanation. But it is not. Listen. It is just a
line or two. It reads: 'Am feeling better now, though that was a
great party last night. Thanks for the newspaper puff which I have
just read. It was very kind of you to get them to print it. Meet
me at the same place and same time to-night. Your Blanche.' The
note was not stamped, and was never sent. Perhaps she rang for a
messenger.


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