She handed Clancy the paper and key-ring. As she did so, the door-bell rang.
Almost simultaneously the door to the dining-room could be heard opening. A moment later, Carey called.
"Ragan's here," he shouted. His voice was surly, like that of a petulant child forced to do something undesirable. Clancy thought that there was more than that in it, that there was the quaver that indicates panic. But Mrs. Carey, who should have been sensitive to any vocal discords in her husband's voice, showed no signs of such sensitiveness.
"Ready in a moment. Send him up," she called.
Ragan was a burly, good-natured Irishman. He grinned at Mrs. Carey's greeting. Here was a servant who adored his mistress, Clancy felt.
"Ready to go to the country, Ragan?" asked Mrs. Carey.
The big man's grin was sufficient answer.
"Ragan," said Mrs. Carey to Clancy, "is the most remarkable man in the world. He can drive a car along Riverside Drive at forty-five miles an hour without being arrested, and he can wait on table like no one else in the world. How's Maria?" she asked him.
"Sure, she's fine," said Ragan. "She's at the station now."
"Where we'll be in ten minutes," said his mistress. She indicated several bags, already packed. Ragan shouldered them. He started down-stairs. Mrs. Carey turned to Clancy. "Hope an empty house doesn't make you nervous," she smiled.