The Voice in the Fog - Page 70/93

"Rather hot for this time of day," volunteered Lord Monckton, sliding

into the Morris chair at the side of Thomas' desk and dangling his legs

over the arm.

"Yes, it is," agreed Thomas, folding a sheet of paper and placing the

little ivory elephant paper-weight upon it.

"Rippin' doubles this morning. You ought to go into the game. Do you

a lot of good."

"I didn't know you played."

"Don't. Watch."

Thomas' gaze was level and steady.

Lord Monckton laughed easily and sought his monocle. He fumbled about

the front of his coat and shirt. "By jove! Lost my glass; wonder I

can see anything."

Outside, on the veranda, the two men could see the cluster of women of

which Kitty was the most animated flower. Voices carried easily.

"Ah--what do you think of these--ah--Americans?" asked Lord Monckton,

as one compatriot to another, leaning toward the desk.

"I think them very kindly, very generous people; at least, those I have

met. Have you not found them so?"

"Quite so. I am enjoying myself immensely." Lord Monckton swung about

in the chair, his back to the veranda.

Thomas loosened his negligee linen-collar.

"Ah, really!" drifted into the room. Lord Monckton sleepily eying

Thomas, only heard the voice; he did not see, as Thomas did, the action

and gesture which accompanied the phrase. Kitty had put something into

her eye, squinted, and twisted an imaginary something a few inches

below her dimpled chin. It was a hoydenish trick, but Kitty had

enacted it for Lord Monckton's benefit. The women shouted with

laughter. Lord Monckton turned in time to see them troop into the

gardens. He turned again to Thomas, to find a grin upon that

gentleman's face.

"Miss Killigrew is rather an unusual young person," was his comment.

"Uncommon," replied Thomas, scrutinizing the point of his pen.

"For my part, I prefer 'em clinging." Lord Monckton rose.

"Rotter!" breathed Thomas. He rearranged his papers, crackling them

suggestively.

"Picnic this afternoon; going along?" asked Lord Monckton, pausing by

the portières.

"Really, I am not a guest here; I am only private secretary to Mrs.

Killigrew. If they treat me as a human being it is because they

believe that charity should not play in grooves."

"Ah! We are all open to a little charity."

"That's true enough. Good morning."

"Beggar!" murmured Lord Monckton as he let the portières fall behind

him.

"Blighter!" muttered Thomas, staring malevolently at the empty doorway.

He would be glad when Mr. and Mrs. Crawford and the artist came down.

Forbes was a chap you could get along with anywhere, under any

conditions.

Some time later Kitty came in. She crossed immediately to the desk.

As Thomas looked up, she smiled at him. It was the first smile of the

kind he had witnessed, coming in his direction, since before that

blunder on the tennis-courts.