Part 29 (1/2)
”All right,” said d.i.c.ky obediently.
As he left the hall he said something in a low voice to Mrs. Carmyle.
That small champion of the oppressed nodded comprehendingly, and established herself at a writing-table under the curtained window.
”Abel,” enquired Lady Adela, in pursuance of her policy of once more clearing the decks for action, ”what have you done with Mr. Rylands?”
”I quite forgot him,” confessed Mr. Mainwaring. ”I was so much occupied with Miss Welwyn. I fear he is still in the smoking-room.”
”Go and let him out--by the side door,” commanded Lady Adela.
”Come on, Dad!” said d.i.c.ky.
Father and son disappeared, arm-in-arm; Lady Adela and Sylvia closed in upon the flinching Miss Welwyn; and Mrs. Carmyle, taking up her pen, addressed herself to the composition of an epistle to her lord and master.
Lady Adela looked round, and remarked in solicitous tones:--
”Constance, dear, you have chosen a very draughty corner for yourself.”
”I have put fresh note-paper in your bedroom, Connie,” added Sylvia cordially.
”I'm as right as rain, thanks,” said Connie. ”Just scribbling a line to Bill.”
And she began:--
_I have arrived quite safely, old man, and the most tremendously exciting things are happening here. Listen!_
CHAPTER XIV
ANOTHER COSY CHAT, WITH AN INTERRUPTION
I
_The victim_, continued Connie presently, _is now upon the sofa, wedged in between the Chief Ogress and the a.s.sistant Tormentor. She is scared out of her wits, poor thing, but has stood up to the pair of them splendidly so far_.
”It was good of you to come down to this poky little corner of the country, Miss Welwyn,” Lady Adela was saying, handing Tilly a second cup of tea. ”It is so nice when one's friends take one as they find one, is it not?”
Tilly, wide-eyed and quaking, was understood to a.s.sent to this proposition.
”You live in town, I understand?” continued Lady Adela cautiously.
Tilly took a deep breath, and began:--
”Yes--in Russell Square. The house,” she continued rapidly, ”is very old-fas.h.i.+oned. It belonged to my grandfather. My father inherited from him, and we have lived there ever since we left Cambridge. We have often talked of leaving, but Dad says he can't bear transplanting at his time of life. So,” concluded Tilly, with an hysterical little gasp--Lady Adela and Sylvia were listening with the dispa.s.sionate immobility of a pair of well-nourished sphinxes--”we just stay on.”
_She has confessed that she lives in Bloomsbury_, wrote Mrs. Carmyle.
_The Inquisition are one up_.
”Russell Square!” cooed Lady Adela. ”How charming and old-fas.h.i.+oned!