Part 47 (1/2)

”But only about twenty minutes older.”

”What? A twin? I say, how extraordinarily jolly. Two of you?”

”Anna-Felicitas,” interrupted Mr. Twist, ”you will go to your sister immediately. She needs you. She's upset. I don't wish to draw Mr.

Elliott behind the scenes of family life, but as nothing seems to get you into the office you force me to tell you that she is very, much upset indeed, and is crying.”

”Crying?” echoed Anna-Felicitas. ”Christopher?” And she turned and departed in such haste that the young man, who luckily was alert as well as resourceful, had only just time to lean over and grab at a chair in her way and pull it aside, and so avert a deplorable catastrophe.

”I hope it's nothing serious?” he inquired of Mr. Twist.

”Oh no. Children will cry.”

”Children?”

Mr. Twist sat down at the table and lit a cigarette. ”Tell me about England,” he said. ”You've been wounded, I see.”

”Leg,” said the young man, still standing leaning on his stick and looking after Anna-Felicitas.

”But that didn't get you six months' leave.”

”Lungs,” said the young man, looking down impatiently at Mr. Twist.

Then the swing doors swung to, and he sat down and poured out his tea.

He had been in the battle of Jutland, and was rescued after hours in the water. For months he was struggling to recover, but finally tuberculosis had developed and he was sent to California, to his sister who had married an American and lived in the neighbourhood of Acapulco. This Mr.

Twist extracted out of him by diligent questioning. He had to question very diligently. What the young man wanted to talk about was Anna-Felicitas; but every time he tried to, Mr. Twist headed him off.

And she didn't come back. He waited and waited, and drank and drank.

When the teapot was empty he started on the hot water. Also he ate all the cakes, more and more deliberately, eking them out at last with slowly smoked cigarettes. He heard all about France and Mr. Twist's activities there; he had time to listen to the whole story of the ambulance from start to finish; and still she didn't come back. In vain he tried at least to get Mr. Twist off those distant fields, nearer home--to the point, in fact, where the Twinklers were. Mr. Twist wouldn't budge. He stuck firmly. And the swing doors remained shut. And the cakes were all eaten. And there was nothing for it at last but to go.

So after half-an-hour of solid sitting he began slowly to get up, still spreading out the moments, with one eye on the swing doors. It was both late and cold. The Germans had departed, and Li Koo had lit the usual evening wood fire in the big fireplace. It blazed most beautifully, and the young man looked at it through the window and hesitated.

”How jolly,” he said.

”Firelight is very pleasant,” agreed Mr. Twist, who had got up too.

”I oughtn't to have stayed so long out here,” said the young man with a little s.h.i.+ver.

”I was thinking it was unwise,” said Mr. Twist.

”Perhaps I'd better go in and warm myself a bit before leaving.”

”I should say your best plan is to get back quickly to your sister and have a hot bath before dinner,” said Mr. Twist.

”Yes. But I think I might just go in there and have a cup of hot coffee first.”

”There is no hot coffee at this hour,” said Mr. Twist, looking at his watch. ”We close at half-past six, and it is now ten minutes after.”