He faced her
sternly.
"Go to your rooms, both of you. We'll stay here until this thing is
ended. I don't give a hang what she's done, I'm not going to desert
her."
"But--but he isn't her husband," gasped Mrs. Rodney, struck dumb by this
amazing rebellion.
"But she's your cousin, isn't she, madam?" he retorted with fierce
irony.
"I disown her!" wailed his wife, _sans raison_.
"Go to your rooms!" stormed pudgy Mr. Rodney. Then, as they slunk away,
he turned to the approving Odell-Carney, sticking out his chest a trifle
in his new-found authority. "I say, Carney, what's to be done next?"
The other looked at him for a moment as if in doubt. Then his face
cleared, and he took the little man's arm in his.
"We'll have a drink first and then see," he said.
As they were entering the buffet, a cheery voice accosted them from
behind. Freddie Ulstervelt came up, real distress in his face.
"I say, count me in on this. I'll buy, if I may. I've just heard the
news from the door porter. Bloody shame, isn't it? I had Mademoiselle Le
Brun over to hear the band concert--she is related to that painter
woman, by the way; I told Katherine she was. Say, gentlemen, we'll stand
by Mrs. Medcroft, won't we? Count me in. If it's anything that money can
square, I'm here with a letter of credit six figures long."
"Join us," said Odell-Carney warmly. "You're a good sort, after all.
Pages:
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128