Project Gutenberg's The Mission Of Mr. Eustace Greyne, by Robert Hichens

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Mission Of Mr. Eustace Greyne
1905

Author: Robert Hichens

Release Date: November 8, 2007 [EBook #23415]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSION OF MR. EUSTACE GREYNE ***

Produced by David Widger

THE MISSION OF MR. EUSTACE GREYNE

By Robert Hichens

Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers

Copyright, 1905

I

Mrs. Eustace Greyne (pronounced Green) wrinkled her forehead--that
noble, that startling forehead which had been written about in the
newspapers of two hemispheres--laid down her American Squeezer pen, and
sighed. It was an autumn day, nipping and melancholy, full of the rustle
of dying leaves and the faint sound of muffin bells, and Belgrave Square
looked sad even to the great female novelist who had written her way
into a mansion there. Fog hung about with the policeman on the pavement.
The passing motor cars were like shadows. Their stertorous pantings
sounded to Mrs. Greyne's ears like the asthma of dying monsters. She
sighed again, and murmured in a deep contralto voice: "It must be so."
Then she got up, crossed the heavy Persian carpet which had been bought
with the proceeds of a short story in her earlier days, and placed her
forefinger upon an electric bell.

Like lightning a powdered giant came.

"Has Mr. Greyne gone out?"

"No, ma'am."

"Where is he?"

"In his study, ma'am, pasting the last of the cuttings into the new
album."

Mrs. Greyne smiled. It was a pretty picture the unconscious six-footer
had conjured up.

"I am sorry to disturb Mr. Greyne," she answered, with that gracious,
and even curling suavity which won all hearts; "but I wish to see him.
Will you ask him to come to me for a moment?"

The giant flew, silk-stockinged, to obey the mandate, while Mrs. Greyne
sat down on a carved oaken chair of ecclesiastical aspect to await her
husband.

She was a famous woman, a personage, this simply-attired lady. With
an American Squeezer pen she had won fame, fortune, and a mansion
in Belgrave Square, and all without the sacrifice of principle.
Res