Part 45 (2/2)

”I'm sorry!”

She moved away. The door closed softly behind her. Jimmy scarcely knew that she had gone. He sat down in that deep chair which was Mr. Pett's favourite, and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. And then, how many minutes or hours later he did not know, the sharp click of the door-handle roused him. He sprang from the chair.

Was it Ann, come back?

It was not Ann. Round the edge of the door came inquiringly the fair head of Lord Wisbeach.

”Oh!” said his lords.h.i.+p, sighting Jimmy.

The head withdrew itself.

”Come here!” shouted Jimmy.

The head appeared again.

”Talking to me?”

”Yes, I was talking to you.”

Lord Wisbeach followed his superstructure into the room. He was outwardly all that was bland and unperturbed, but there was a wary look in the eye that c.o.c.ked itself at Jimmy, and he did not move far from the door. His fingers rested easily on the handle behind him. He did not think it probable that Jimmy could have heard of his visit to Mrs. Pett, but there had been something menacing in the latter's voice, and he believed in safety first.

”They told me Miss Chester was here,” he said by way of relaxing any possible strain there might be in the situation.

”And what the devil do you want with Miss Chester, you slimy, crawling second-story-worker, you d.a.m.ned, oily yegg?” enquired Jimmy.

The sunniest optimist could not have deluded himself into the belief that the words were spoken in a friendly and genial spirit. Lord Wisbeach's fingers tightened on the door-handle, and he grew a little flushed about the cheek-bones.

”What's all this about?” he said.

”You infernal crook!”

Lord Wisbeach looked anxious.

”Don't shout like that! Are you crazy? Do you want people to hear?”

Jimmy drew a deep breath.

”I shall have to get further away from you,” he said more quietly. ”There's no knowing what may happen if I don't. I don't want to kill you. At least, I do, but I had better not.”

He retired slowly until brought to a halt by the writing-desk. To this he anch.o.r.ed himself with a firm grip. He was extremely anxious to do nothing rash, and the spectacle of Gentleman Jack invited rashness. He leaned against the desk, clutching its solidity with both hands. Lord Wisbeach held steadfastly to the door-handle. And in this tense fas.h.i.+on the interview proceeded.

”Miss Chester,” said Jimmy, forcing himself to speak calmly, ”has just been telling me that she has promised to marry you.”

”Quite true,” said Lord Wisbeach. ”It will be announced to-morrow.” A remark trembled on his lips, to the effect that he relied on Jimmy for a fish-slice, but prudence kept it unspoken.

He was unable at present to understand Jimmy's emotion. Why Jimmy should object to his being engaged to Ann, he could not imagine.

But it was plain that for some reason he had taken the thing to heart, and, dearly as he loved a bit of quiet fun, Lord Wisbeach decided that the other was at least six inches too tall and fifty pounds too heavy to be bantered in his present mood by one of his own physique. ”Why not?”

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