Part 11 (2/2)

You're aware that, had it not been for his resourcefulness and courage, Miss Leslie would have perished in that savage land of wild beasts and fever. Yet there _is_ something more than you could have heard from her father, something I'm not free to tell about. Wish I was, 'pon my word, I do! Finest thing he ever did,--something even _we_ would not have expected of him.”

”Dunno 'bout that,” qualified Griffith. ”There's mighty little I don't expect of him--if only he can cut out the lus.h.i.+ng.”

Lord James twisted his mustache. ”Ever think of him as wearing a dress suit, Mr. Griffith?”

Griffith looked blank. ”Tommy?--in a dress suit!”

”There's one in his box. When we landed in England I took him down to Ruthby. Kept him there a month. You'd have been jolly well pleased to see the way he and the guv'nor hit it off.”

”Governor?”

”Yes, my pater--father, y' know.”

”So he's a governor? Then Tommy was stringing me about the earl and duke business.”

”Oh, no, no, indeed, no. The pater is the Duke of Ruthby, seventh in the line, and twenty-first Earl of Avondale; but he's a crack-up jolly old chap, I a.s.sure you. Not all our t.i.tled people are of the kind you see most of over here in the States.”

”But--hold on--if your father is a real duke, then you're not Mr.--”

”Yes, I must insist upon that. Even in England I am only Mr.

Scarbridge--legally, y' know. Hope you'll do me the favor of remembering I prefer it that way.”

”I'd do a whole lot for any man _he_ calls his friend,” said Griffith, gazing across at Blake's broad back. Lord James glanced at his watch, and rose. ”Sorry. Must go.”

”Well, if you must,” said Griffith. ”You know the way here now. Drop in any time you feel like it. Rooms are always open. If I'm busy, I've got a pretty good technical library--if you're interested in engineering,--and some photographs of scenery and construction work.

Took 'em myself.”

”Thanks. I'll come,” responded Lord James. He nodded cordially, and turned to call slangily to Blake: ”S' long, bo. I'm on my way.”

Blake wheeled about from the wall. ”What's this? Not going already?”

”Ah, to be sure. Pressing engagement. Must give Wilton time to attire me--those studied effects--last artistic touches, don't y' know,”

chaffed the Englishman.

But his banter won no responsive smile from his friend. Blake's face darkened.

”You're not going to see her to-day,” he muttered.

”How could you think it, Tom?” reproached the younger man, flus.h.i.+ng hotly. ”I have it! We'll extend the agreement until noon to-morrow. You have that appointment with her father in the morning.”

”That's square! Just like you, Jimmy. Course I knew you'd play fair--It's only my grouch. I remember now. Madam G. gave you a bid to dine with her.”

Lord James drew out his monocle, replaced it, and smiled. ”Er--quite true; but possibly the daughter may be a compensation.”

”Sure,” a.s.sented Blake, a trifle too eagerly, ”You're bound to like Miss Dolores. I sized her up for a mighty fine girl. Not at all like her mamma--handsome, lively young lady--just your style, Jimmy.”

”Can't see it, old man. Sorry!” replied his lords.h.i.+p. ”Good-day.

Good-day, Mr. Griffith.”

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