Part 6 (1/2)

”By the way, Jimmy,” said Molly, as they went down the hill. ”Can you act?”

”Can I what?”

”Act. In theatricals, you know.”

”I've never tried. But I've played poker, which I should think is much the same.”

”We are going to do a play, and we want another man. The man who was going to play one of the parts has had to go back to London.”

”Poor devil! Fancy having to leave a place like this and go back to that dingy, overrated town.”

The big drawing-room of the abbey was full when they arrived. Tea was going on in a desultory manner. In a chair at the far end of the room, Sir Thomas Blunt surveyed the scene gloomily through the smoke of a cigarette. The sound of Lady Blunt's voice had struck their ears as they opened the door. The Maxim gun was in action with no apparent prospect of jamming. The target of the moment was a fair, tired-looking lady, with a remarkable resemblance to Spennie. Jimmy took her to be his hostess. There was a resigned expression on her face, which he thoroughly understood. He sympathized with her.

The other occupants of the room stared for a moment at Jimmy in the austere manner peculiar to the Briton who sees a stranger, and then resumed their respective conversations. One of their number, a slight, pale, young man, as scientifically clothed as Sir Thomas, left his group, and addressed himself to Molly.

”Ah, here you are, Miss McEachern,” he said. ”At last. We were all getting so anxious.”

”Really?” said Molly. ”That's very kind of you, Mr. Wesson.”

”I a.s.sure you, yes. Positively. A gray gloom had settled upon us. We pictured you in all sorts of horrid situations. I was just going to call for volunteers to scour the country, or whatever it is that one does in such circ.u.mstances. I used to read about it in books, but I have forgotten the technical term. I am relieved to find that you are not even dusty, though it would have been more romantic if you could have managed a little dust here and there. But don't consider my feelings, Miss McEachern, please.”

Molly introduced Jimmy to the newcomer. They shook hands, Jimmy with something of the wariness of a boxer in the ring. He felt an instinctive distrust of this man. Why, he could not have said. Perhaps it was a certain subtle familiarity in his manner of speaking to Molly that annoyed him. Jimmy objected strongly to any one addressing her as if there existed between them some secret understanding. Already the mood of the old New York days was strong upon him. His instinct then had been to hate all her male acquaintances with an unreasoning hatred. He found himself in much the same frame of mind, now.

”So you're Spennie's friend,” said Mr. Wesson, ”the man who's going to show us all how to act, what?”

”I believe there is some idea of my being a 'confused noise without', or something.”

”Haven't they asked you to play _Lord Algernon_?” inquired Wesson, with more animation than he usually allowed himself to exhibit.

”Who is _Lord Algernon_?”

”Only a character in the piece we are acting.”

”What does he do?”

”He talks to me most of the time,” said Molly.

”Then,” said Jimmy decidedly, ”I seem to see myself making a big hit.”

”It's a long part if you aren't used to that sort of thing,” said Wesson.

He had hoped that the part with its wealth of opportunity would have fallen to himself.

”I am used to it,” said Jimmy. ”Thanks.”

”If that little beast's after Molly,” thought Jimmy, ”there will be trouble.”

”Come along,” said Molly, ”and be introduced, and get some tea.”