“Doubt if he’ll have time for it. You see, Charles, I’m sorry to disturb your plans, but we want a little business with the doctor. Committee.”
“Then I’ll find a canoe to take me over to the Snowflake. Unsociable lot on that boat—never come ashore for a drink or anythin’. I should do ’em good.”
“Sorry to disappoint you again, but the Snowflake left Faloo this morning.”
“Where to? When’s she comin’ back?”
Sir John stroked his beard and looked very discreet. “I’m afraid,” he said, “I’m not in a position to say.”
“Well, I am gettin’ it in the neck this mornin’, I don’t think. Mayn’t do what I’ve done—can’t do what I wanted—and not to be told anythin’ about anythin’. Krikey! And nothin’ for breakfast but two oranges and a bad headache. What a life!”
“Ah, ha!” laughed Sir John. “You keep it up too late, you and Mast!”
“Shall we,” screamed the parrot with much emphasis on the first word, and then paused. With its head on one side, it blinked at Sir John and observed parenthetically, “You damned thief!” For the moment it had forgotten what it had first intended to say. “Gather at the river?” it suddenly added with perfunctory rapidity.
As a matter of fact Sir John knew no more than the others about the destination of the Snowflake. Nor did he know when she would return to take up her owner. His information was derived from a very laconic note from Dr Pryce, received on the previous evening. “Syndicate chucked,” wrote Dr Soames Pryce. “Lechworthy partners Smith. Snowflake leaves to-morrow morning, but returns for Lechworthy. Shall be at the club for a few hours then. So please call committee to meet me and explain.” That morning Sir John had received the King’s formal notice of his intention to buy out his partners. The letter was brief, severely correct, business-like in every phrase, and clearly had nothing of King Smith about it except the signature.