“Marry her,” promptly advised Jack.
“That is my intention, Jack, and the day after tomorrow I visit Rosemont to persuade her to elope with me. Quite a society thrill—don’t you know?”
“Thrill!” replied Jack, astonished. “You mean sensation. Hazel eloped with me Lord Beauchamp, Knight of the Garter. Have one on that, Phil.”
“Oh, she’s a darling, Jack, and now that Corway is out of the way—I think she’d like—to wear the garter,” and he grinned jovially.
“A garter is fetching, Phil.”
“Success to the garter! May Lady Hazel never let it fall; ha, ha,” and Jack laughed merrily as he filled the glass.
“Evil be to him who evil thinks. My garter, Jack! He, he, he, he.” There was no mistaking the fact that the two men were verging on the hilarious, and though fully aware of the importance of conversing in low tones, they continued, because they felt satisfied the critical period of their operations had passed and success was assured.
Again Rutley laughed. “Jack, I’ve had an itching palm today.”
“So have I. See how red it is with scratching, and the sole of my left foot has been tickled to fits.”
“The signs are right, Jack. I congratulate you on your luck, and if it is as good as your judgment of liquor—it is a damned good thing.” He laughed as he seized the glass. “This is the proof,” and he forthwith tossed it off, and handed the glass to Jack.