conversation, when the parties concerned meet subsequently, is cold
and strained.
Matters had reached this stage at the castle. Everybody was
thoroughly tired of the piece, and, but for the thought of the
disappointment which (presumably) would rack the neighboring
nobility and gentry if it were not to be produced, would have
resigned their places without a twinge of regret. People who had
schemed to get the best and longest parts were wishing now that they
had been content with "First Footman," or "Giles, a villager."
"I'll never run an amateur show again as long as I live," confided
Charteris to Jimmy almost tearfully. "It's not good enough. Most of
them aren't word-perfect yet."
"It'll be all right--"
"Oh, don't say it'll be all right on the night."
"I wasn't going to," said Jimmy. "I was going to say it'll be all
right after the night. People will soon forget how badly the thing
went."
"You're a nice, comforting sort of man, aren't you?" said Charteris.
"Why worry?" said Jimmy. "If you go on like this, it'll be
Westminster Abbey for you in your prime. You'll be getting brain-
fever."
Jimmy himself was one of the few who were feeling reasonably
cheerful. He was deriving a keen amusement at present from the
maneuvers of Mr. Samuel Galer, of New York. This lynx-eyed man;
having been instructed by Mr. McEachern to watch Jimmy, was doing so
with a thoroughness that would have roused the suspicions of a babe.
If Jimmy went to the billiard-room after dinner, Mr. Galer was there
to keep him company. If, during the course of the day, he had
occasion to fetch a handkerchief or a cigarette-case from his
bedroom, he was sure, on emerging, to stumble upon Mr. Galer in the
corridor. The employees of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency believed
in earning their salaries.
Occasionally, after these encounters, Jimmy would come upon Sir
Thomas Blunt's valet, the other man in whom Spike's trained eye had
discerned the distinguishing marks of the sleuth. He was usually
somewhere round the corner at these moments, and, when collided
with, apologized with great politeness. Jimmy decided that he must
have come under suspicion in this case vicariously, through Spike.
Spike in the servants' hall would, of course, stand out
conspicuously enough to catch the eye of a detective on the look out
for sin among the servants; and he himself, as Spike's employer, had
been marked down as a possible confederate.
It tickled him to think that both these giant brains should be so
greatly exercised on his account.
He had been watching Molly closely during these days. So far, no
announcement of the engagement had been made. It struck him that
possibly it was being reserved for public mention on the night of
the theatricals. The whole county would be at the castle then. There
could be no more fitting moment. He sounded Lord Dreever, and the
latter said moodily that he was probably right.
"There's going to be a dance of sorts after the show," he said, "and
it'll be done then, I suppose. No getting out of it after that.
It'll be all over the county. Trust my uncle for that. He'll get on
a table, and shout it, shouldn't wonder. And it'll be in the Morning
Post next day, and Katie'll see it! Only two days more, oh, lord!"
Jimmy deduced that Katie was the Savoy girl, concerning whom his
lordship had vouchsafed no particulars save that she was a ripper
and hadn't a penny.
Only two days! Like the battle of Waterloo, it was going to be a
close-run affair. More than ever now, he realized how much Molly
meant to him; and there were moments when it seemed to him that she,
too, had begun to understand. That night on the terrace seemed
somehow to have changed their relationship. He thought he had got
closer to her. They were in touch. Before, she had been frank,
cheerful, unembarrassed. Now, he noticed a constraint in her manner,
a curious shyness. There was a barrier between them, but it was not
the old barrier. He had ceased to be one of a crowd.
But it was a race against time. The first day slipped by, a blank,
and the second; till, now, it was but a matter of hours. The last
afternoon had come.
Not even Mr. Samuel Galer, of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency, could
have kept a more unflagging watch than did Jimmy during those hours.
There was no rehearsal that afternoon, and the members of the
company, in various stages of nervous collapse, strayed distractedly
about the grounds. First one, then another, would seize upon Molly,
while Jimmy, watching from afar, cursed their pertinacity.
At last, she wondered off alone, and Jimmy, quitting his ambush,
followed.
She walked in the direction of the lake. It had been a terribly hot,
oppressive afternoon. There was thunder in the air. Through the
trees, the lake glittered invitingly.
She was standing at the water's edge when Jimmy came up. Her back
was turned. She was rocking with her foot a Canadian canoe that lay
alongside the bank. She started as he spoke. His feet on the soft
turf had made no sound.
"Can I take you out on the lake?" he said.
She did not answer for a moment. She was plainly confused.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I--I'm waiting for lord Dreever."
Jimmy saw that she was nervous. There was tension in the air. She
was looking away from him, out across the lake, and her face was
flushed.
"Won't you?" he said.
"I'm sorry," she said again.
Jimmy looked over his shoulder. Down the lower terrace was
approaching the long form of his lordship. He walked with pensive
jerkiness, not as one hurrying to a welcome tryst. As Jimmy looked,
he vanished behind the great clump of laurels that stood on the
lowest terrace. In another minute, he would reappear round them.
Gently, but with extreme dispatch, Jimmy placed a hand on either
side of Molly's waist. The next moment, he had swung her off her
feet, and lowered her carefully to the cushions in the bow of the
canoe.
Then, jumping in himself with a force that made the boat rock, he
loosened the mooring-rope, seized the paddle, and pushed off.
CHAPTER XIX
ON THE LAKE
In making love, as in every other branch of life, consistency is the
quality most to be aimed at. To hedge is fatal. A man must choose
the line of action that he judges to be best suited to his
temperament, and hold to it without deviation. If Lochinvar snatches
the maiden up on his saddle-bow, he must continue in that vein. He
must not fancy that, having accomplished the feat, he can resume the
episode on lines of devotional humility. Prehistoric man, who
conducted his courtship with a club, never fell into the error of
apologizing when his bride complained of headache.
Jimmy did not apologize. The idea did not enter his mind. He was
feeling prehistoric. His heart was beating fast, and his mind was in
a whirl, but the one definite thought that came to him during the
first few seconds of the journey was that he ought to have done this
earlier. This was the right way. Pick her up and carry her off, and
leave uncles and fathers and butter-haired peers of the realm to
look after themselves. This was the way. Alone together in their own
little world of water, with nobody to interrupt and nobody to
overhear! He should have done it before. He had wasted precious,
golden time, hanging about while futile men chattered to her of
things that could not possibly be of interest. But he had done the
right thing at last. He had got her. She must listen to him now. She