Part 28 (1/2)

”Don't you like these quarters?” he said. ”We think they are perfectly delightful.”

”So do I,” Wentworth said, ”so do I. They are so quiet.”

”My wife wants to be quiet,” said Rendel, half indicating Rachel, who was lying back in a garden chair, some knitting in her hands.

”How are you, Mrs. Rendel?” said Wentworth, and he hastened forward to greet her.

She put out her hand with a smile and shook hands with him, apparently not surprised at seeing him, or particularly interested.

”You are certainly most delightfully cool here in the shade,” he said.

”It is awfully hot in that promenade.”

”It must be,” said Rachel.

”How long have you been here?” Wentworth went on, sitting down.

”How long is it?” said Rachel, with a slightly puzzled look, looking at Rendel. ”Only a few days, isn't it?”

”Yes, not quite a week. My wife has not been well. We were recommended here that she might do the cure.”

”I see,” Wentworth said, somewhat relieved at finding himself on the way to an explanation. ”Well, this is a splendid place, I believe, for the people that it cures,” he added sapiently.

”No doubt,” Rendel said.

There was another pause.

”Then that is why we have not seen you at the Casino,” Wentworth said.

”One can't avoid running up against people one knows at every turn here.”

”Is that so?” said Rendel, a note of anxiety in his voice. ”We have not run up against any one yet.”

”Oh! dear me, yes,” said Wentworth, unconscious that each of the names he might enumerate would represent to Rendel a possible inexorable judge. ”Half London is here: Lady Chaloner, Pateley--all sorts of people.”

”Pateley?” said Rendel, the blood rus.h.i.+ng to his face at the a.s.sociation of ideas called up in his mind by that name.

”Of course,” said Wentworth. ”Pateley, flouris.h.i.+ng like the bay-tree.

They say he is making thousands, and he looks as if he were.”

”Out of the _Arbiter_?” asked Rendel.

”The _Arbiter_, I suppose, or something else. But I have no doubt he would tell you if you asked him. He does not impress me as being one of the very reserved kind.”

”I don't know,” said Rendel. ”I don't suppose Pateley ever says more than he means to say, with all his air of hearty communicativeness.”

”Well, I daresay not,” said Wentworth. ”The man's very good company after all; and as long as none of our secrets are in his keeping, it doesn't matter particularly.”

Rendel said nothing. He felt he could not meet Pateley face to face at this moment.

”What do you do, then, all day here,” said Wentworth, ”if you don't drink the waters, and don't go to the Casino, and don't play Bridge?”