On the sixty-fourth lecture Hamilton struck.
"Of course, dear old thing," Bones was saying, "to a jolly old brigand
like you, who dashes madly down from his mountain lair and takes the
first engaging young person who meets his eye----"
Hamilton protested vigorously, but Bones silenced him with a lordly
gesture.
"I say, to a jolly old rascal like you it may seem--what is the word?"
"'Inexplicable,' I suppose, is the word you are after," said Hamilton.
"That's the fellow; you took it out of my mouth," said Bones. "It
sounds inexplicable that I can be interested in a platonic, fatherly
kind of way in the future of a lovely old typewriter."
"It's not inexplicable at all," said Hamilton bluntly. "You're in love
with the girl."
"Good gracious Heavens!" gasped Bones, horrified. "Ham, my dear old
boy. Dicky Orum, Dicky Orum, old thing!"
Sunday morning brought together four solemn people, two of whom were
men, who felt extremely awkward and showed it, and two of whom behaved
as though they had known one another all their lives.
Bones, who stood alternately on his various legs, was frankly astounded
that the meeting had passed off without any sensational happening. It
was an astonishment shared by thousands of men in similar
circumstances. A word of admiration for the car from Vera melted him
to a condition of hysterical gratitude.
"It's not a bad old 'bus, dear old--Miss Vera," he said, and tut-tutted
audibly under his breath at his error. "Not a bad old 'bus at all,
dear old--young friend. Now I'll show you the gem of the collection."
"They are big, aren't they?" said Vera, properly impressed by the lamps.
"They never go out," said Bones solemnly. "I assure you I'm looking
forward to the return journey with the greatest eagerness--I mean to
say, of course, that I'm looking forward to the other journey--I don't
mean to say I want the day to finish, and all that sort of rot. In
fact, dear old Miss Vera, I think we'd better be starting."
He cranked up and climbed into the driver's seat, and beckoned
Marguerite to seat herself by his side. He might have done this
without explanation, but Bones never did things without explanation,
and he turned back and glared at Hamilton.
"You'd like to be alone, dear old thing, wouldn't you?" he said
gruffly. "Don't worry about me, dear old lad. A lot of people say you
can see things reflected in the glass screen, but I'm so absorbed in my
driving----"
"Get on with it!" snarled Hamilton.
It was, nevertheless, a perfect day, and Bones, to everybody's
surprise, his own included, drove perfectly. It had been his secret
intention to drive to Brighton; but nobody suspected this plan, or
cared very much what his intentions had been, and the car was running
smoothly across Salisbury Plain.