Part 47 (1/2)

”But, last night,” began Bowen and paused.

”Last night, I think,” said Lady Tanagra, ”was a master-stroke. She is touched; it's taken us forward at least a week.”

”But look here, Tan,” said Bowen gloomily, ”you told me to leave it all in your hands and you make me treat her rottenly, then you say----”

”That you know about as much of how to make a woman like Patricia fall in love with you as an ostrich does of geology,” said Lady Tanagra calmly.

”But what will she think?” demanded Bowen.

”At present she is thinking that Eastbourne will be a nightmare of loneliness.”

”I'll run down and see her,” announced Bowen.

”If you do, Peter!” There was a note of warning in Lady Tanagra's voice.

”All right,” he conceded gloomily. ”I'll give you another week, and then I'll go my own way.”

”Peter, if you were smaller and I were bigger I think I should spank you,” laughed Lady Tanagra. Then with great seriousness she said, ”I want you to marry her, and I'm going the only way to work to make her let you. Do try and trust me, Peter.”

Bowen looked down at her with a smile, touched by the look in her eyes.

For a moment his arm rested across her shoulders. Then he pushed her towards the door. ”Clear out, Tan. I'm not fit for a bear-pit to-night.”

The Bowens were never demonstrative with one another.

For half an hour Bowen sat smoking one cigarette after another until he was interrupted by the entrance of Peel, who, after a comprehensive glance round the room, proceeded to administer here and there those deft touches that emphasize a patient and orderly mind. Bowen watched him as he moved about on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet.

”Have you ever been to Eastbourne, Peel?” enquired Bowen presently.

Just why he asked the question he could not have said.

”Only once, my lord,” replied Peel as he replaced the full ash-tray on the table by Bowen with a clean one. There was a note in his voice implying that nothing would ever tempt him to go there again.

”You don't like it?” suggested Bowen.

”I dislike it intensely, my lord,” replied Peel as he refolded a copy of _The Times_.

”Why?”

”It has unpleasant a.s.sociations, my lord,” was the reply.

Bowen smiled. After a moment's silence he continued:

”Been sowing wild oats there?”

”No, my lord, not exactly.”

”Well, if it's not too private,” said Bowen, ”tell me what happened.

At the moment I'm particularly interested in the place.”