Part 18 (1/2)
”And is it insured?”
”Of course, darling.”
”And what about the licence?”
”Oh! The Eagle Company saw to all those stupid things for me.”
”And how many times have you forged my signature while I've been lying on a bed of pain?”
”The fact is, darling, I made the purchase in my own name. Now come _along_. We're going round the park.”
The way she patted his overcoat when she had got it on to him...! The way she took him by the hand and pulled him towards the drawing-room door...! She had done an exceedingly audacious deed, and her spirits rose as she became convinced from his demeanour that she had not pushed audacity too far. (For she was never absolutely sure of him.)
”Wait one moment,” said Mr. Prohack releasing himself and slipping back to the window.
”What's the matter?”
”I merely desired to look at the chauffeur's face. Is it a real chauffeur? Not an automaton?”
”Arthur!”
”You're sure he's quite human?” Mrs. Prohack closed the piano, and then stamped her foot.
”Listen,” said Mr. Prohack. ”I'm about to trust my life to the mysterious being inside that uniform. Did you imagine that I would trust my life to a perfect stranger? In another half hour he and I may be lying in hospital side by side. And I don't even know his name! Fetch him in, my dove, and allow me to establish relations with him. But confide to me his name first.” The expression on Mrs. Prohack's features was one of sublime forbearance under ineffable provocation.
”This is Carthew,” she announced, bringing the chauffeur into the drawing-room.
Carthew was a fairly tall, fairly full-bodied, grizzled man of about forty; he carried his cap and one gauntleted glove in one gloved hand, and his long, stiff green overcoat slanted down from his neck to his knees in an unbroken line. He had the impa.s.sivity of a policeman.
”Good morning, Carthew,” Mr. Prohack began, rising. ”I thought that you and I would like to make one another's acquaintance.”
”Yes, sir.”
Mr. Prohack held out his hand, which Carthew calmly took.
”Will you sit down?”
”Thank you, sir.”
”Have a cigarette?” Carthew hesitated.
”Do you mind if I have one of my own, sir?”
”These are Virginian.”
”Oh! Thank you, sir.” And Carthew took a cigarette from Mr. Prohack's case.
”Light?”
”After you, sir.”