Part 26 (2/2)
The Chinaman appeared in the doorway, as suddenly and silently as if magically materialized by the sound of his name. He bore with circ.u.mspection a large tray decorated with gla.s.ses, siphons, decanters and a bowl of cracked ice.
”I make very remarkable d.a.m.n fine quick guess what you want first,” he observed suavely, placing the tray on a small table convenient to Ember's hand. ”That all now?”
”You're a sulphur-coloured wizard with pigeon-toed eyes,” replied Ember severely. ”Go away from here instantly and prepare me all the dinner in the establishment, lest an evil fate overtake you.”
”It is written,” returned Sum Fat, ”that I die after eight-seven years of honourable life from heart-failure on receiving long-deferred raise in wages.”
He shuffled off, chuckling.
”Scotch or Irish?” demanded Ember, clinking gla.s.ses.
”Irish, please. How's your friend's case?”
”Coming along. You don't seem surprised to see me.”
”I had your telegram, and besides I heard your car, just now.”
”Oh!” There was a significance in the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n which Whitaker chose to ignore as he blandly accepted his frosted gla.s.s. ”You weren't--ah--lonely?” Ember persisted.
”Not in the least.”
”I fancied I saw the flutter of a petticoat through the trees, as I came up to the house.”
”You did.”
”Found a--ah--friend down here?”
”Acquaintance of yours, I believe: Miss Fiske.”
”Miss Fiske!” There was unfeigned amazement in the echo.
”Anything wonderful about that?” inquired Whitaker, sharply. ”I fancied from what she said that you two were rather good friends.”
”Just surprised--that's all,” said Ember, recovering. ”You see, I didn't think the Fiske place was open this year.”
He stared suspiciously at Whitaker, but the latter was transparently ingenuous.
”She expressed an unaccountable desire to see you--told me to tell you.”
”Oh? Such being the case, one would think she might've waited.”
”She had just started home when you drove in,” Whitaker explained with elaborate ease. ”She'd merely run over for a moment to inquire after my ankle, and couldn't wait.”
”Thoughtful of her.”
”Wasn't it?” To this Whitaker added with less complacency: ”You'll have to call after dinner, I suppose.”
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