II
"Dad," said he, after Mimi had gone through her self-ordained martyrdom and left the room. "I wonder whether you quite realise what a top-hole creature that Warburton girl is. She's perfectly astounding."
"She is," Mr. Prohack admitted.
"She's got ideas."
"She has."
"And she isn't afraid of carrying them out."
"She is not."
"She's much too good for you, dad."
"She is."
"I mean, you can't really make full use of her, can you? She's got no scope here."
"She makes her own scope," said Mr. Prohack.
"Now I honestly do need a good secretary," Charlie at last unmasked his attack. "I've got a temporary idiot, and I want a first-rater, preferably a woman. I wish you'd be decent and turn Miss Warburton over to me. She'd be invaluable to me, and with me she really would have scope for her talents." Charlie laughed.
"What are you laughing at?"
"I was only thinking of her having the notion of queering the drains like that because she wanted to please you. It was simply great. It's the best thing I ever heard." He laughed again. "Now, dad, will you turn her over to me?"
"You appear to think she's a slave to be bought and sold and this room the slave-market," said Mr. Prohack. "It hasn't occurred to you that she might object to the transfer."
"Oh! I can soon persuade her." said Charlie, lightly.
"But you couldn't easily persuade me. And I may as well inform you at once, my poor ingenuous boy, that I won't agree. I will never agree. Miss Warburton is necessary to my existence."
"All in two or three days, is she?" Charlie observed sarcastically.
"Yes."
"Well, father, as we're talking straight, let's talk straight. I'm going to take her from you. It's a very little help I'm asking you for, and that you should refuse is a bit thick. I shall speak to the mater."
"And what shall you say?"
"I shall tell her all about the plot against the new house. It was really a plot against her, because she wants the house—the house is nothing to me. I may believe that you knew nothing about the plot yourself, but I'll lay you any odds the mater won't."
"Speaking as man to man, my boy, I lay you any odds you can't put your mother against me."
"Oh!" cried Charlie, "she won't say she believes you're guilty, but she'll believe it all the same. And it's what people think that matters, not what they say they think."
"That's wisdom," Mr. Prohack agreed. "I see that I brought you up not so badly after all. But doesn't it strike you that you're trying to blackmail your father? I hope I taught you sagacity, but I never encouraged you in blackmail—unless my memory fails me."
"You can call it by any name you please," said Charlie.
"Very well, then, I will. I'll call it blackmail. Give me a cigarette." He lit the offered cigarette. "Anything else this morning?"
Father and son smiled warily at one another. Both were amused and even affectionate, but serious in the battle.
"Come along, dad. Be a sport. Anyhow, let's ask the girl."
"Do you know what my answer to blackmail is?" Mr. Prohack blandly enquired.
"No."
"My answer is the door. Drop the subject entirely. Or sling your adventurous book."
Mr. Prohack was somewhat startled to see Charlie walk straight out of the bedroom. A disturbing suspicion that there might be something incalculable in his son was rudely confirmed.
He said to himself: "But this is absurd."