Part 53 (2/2)
”Nice goings-on, I don't think,” observed Mr. Carmyle severely, reappearing round the rhododendron. ”Shouting all over the garden--what?”
But the two conspirators, still in the clouds together, took no notice of him. Instead, Connie rose to her feet and began to walk towards the nearest gate. The two men followed.
”Connie, how am I going to do it?” asked d.i.c.ky deferentially.
”I have a plan,” replied Connie, with portentous solemnity. She was launched on an enterprise after her own heart. ”Listen! Have you a portmanteau?”
”Yes, at my rooms.”
”Well, go there and pack it.”
”Why?” asked d.i.c.ky in a dazed voice.
Mrs. Carmyle replied by quoting a famous and oracular phrase which had lately fallen from the lips of a prominent statesman, and the party reached the railings.
”Hallo, there's a taxi at the Welwyns' door,” said Carmyle. ”I wonder--oh, Lord!”
He fell hastily to the rear, his knees knocking together. Two figures were ascending the steps of the house. One was majestic and purposeful; the other small and reluctant. The front door opened and closed upon them.
”My mother--already!” exclaimed d.i.c.ky in dismay.
That burned child, William Carmyle, broke into a gentle perspiration.
”Never mind,” said Connie rea.s.suringly. ”She was bound to come. She can't do any harm.”
”Supposing she gets Tilly to agree never to see me again?” said d.i.c.ky feverishly. ”Supposing she insults her with money?” He ground his teeth, and Carmyle groaned sympathetically.
Connie patted his arm soothingly.
”The last word is the only thing that matters in this case,” she said with great confidence; ”and you are going to have that, d.i.c.ky, my friend. Now, run away and pack your portmanteau. Then come and lunch with us at Prince's. I must fly. I have an appointment with a gentleman at Russell Square Tube Station at twelve-thirty. It is after that now.”
d.i.c.ky glanced at Bill Carmyle for an explanation of this mysterious a.s.signation, but that gentleman merely shook his head in a bewildered fas.h.i.+on.
”Don't ask me, old man,” he said.
”Who is the gentleman, Connie?” d.i.c.ky enquired.
”An admirer of mine,” replied Mrs. Carmyle, with a gratified smile. ”I met him in the train this morning.”
”For the first time?”
”No--second. When I saw him I had an idea, so we arranged to meet again at twelve-thirty. He has another engagement, but he said it did n't matter when I asked him. After he has done what I want, he is coming to lunch, too. Now run and pack. Au revoir!”
Revelling in every turn of the highly complicated plot which she was weaving, little Mrs. Carmyle, followed by her inarticulate but inflated husband, pattered swiftly away round the corner--and incidentally out of this narrative--turning to wave a rea.s.suring hand to her client before disappearing.
The Freak, puzzled but confident, went home to pack his portmanteau.
CHAPTER XXV
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