IX
He had a taxi waiting, and the driver was getting the boxes on as we reached the annexe again. Philip carried in his hand the jar of orange curaçao.
"Get the liqueur-glasses out, Monty," he said, and the words sounded remotely familiar.
"Where are my darling babies?" Joan cried, darting out into the garden where the Esdaile boys played beneath the mulberry. Philip and Mollie had decided that the best and cheapest thing to do with them was to pack them off to a preparatory school, and for a month past Joan had been impressing on them the dignity of this promotion.
As Philip busied himself with the jar of curaçao I found myself by Audrey Rooke's side. It was a little on my mind that she had the impression I didn't like her. Very charming and graceful indeed she looked in her filmy black tulle, and the hat with the little jutting-out serifs admirably suited her. The ring that I had prised out of the hole in the floor with a screwdriver was on her finger again, above her wedding-ring.
"May I say how sincerely glad I am this has all ended so happily?" I said in a low voice.
She lifted the large dark eyes to mine, and I fancied I saw a grateful look in them.
"Thank you," she said; and added, "Mollie told me what your share in it was."
"The merest fluke," I said.
"But you were quick to understand," she replied; and we let it go at that.
"Got those glasses, Monty?" Philip called. "Fetch Joan in, Mollie—there isn't much time——"
We pressed about the tray of glasses filled with the pale liquid gold.
"Well—extraordinary good luck, everybody——"
"Here's how——"
"Cheerioh——"
"God bless," said Chummy, with a little jerk of his glass aloft. "No, Alan, liqueurs are not for little boys—not till after their first term——"
"The best of luck, Mrs. Rooke——"
The glasses were set down again, and we bustled into the little hall.
"Gear all aboard?"
"Right—so long, Mollie, and ever so many thanks——"
"Good-by, darling——"
"Good-by, Commander——"
"With your permission, Chummy——"
"Here, I say, let them get off—they'll miss their train——"
We flocked down the path after them, and Philip closed the taxi door.
"Paddington," he said.
Waving hands, handkerchiefs, blown kisses; and the taxi glided away. As it did so it showed a tall figure in police uniform who had been standing behind it.
"Good morning, Inspector," said Philip.
Inspector Webster gravely saluted.
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