"You would scarcely credit, perhaps, but there are other things of interest in the world besides—inducements. And that the side of Mr. Abinger's character which appears to be so well known to you, is one that he reserves specially for ladies of your—distractions."
He smiled and added:
"I'm afraid you hardly realise how distracting you are. Here am I, for instance, with a number of pressing matters waiting for my attention"—he put his hand into the breastpocket of his coat and brought out a bundle of letters and papers—"neglecting them to indulge in a fascinated contemplation of you. But if you will be good enough to release me——"
Miss Cornell damped her lips with her tongue.
"I hate Rosalind Chard," she said hoarsely, "but I am sorry for her, all the same, if she gets you. I think you are the worst devil I've ever met in my life. Talk about the three bad men! Abinger and Charlie Bramham are angels compared to you."
"I will let 'Charlie' know of your favourable opinion of him—he will be flattered. Pray excuse me!" He looked apologetically at the papers in his hand.
"Oh! go to hell!" she screamed. Carson bowed, and with that insolent smile still lingering on his lips, gave his attention to his letters.
At Inchanga he stepped out of the carriage and looked about him with careless interest, lighted a cigarette, and presently lounged down the platform. Incidentally he went into the telegraph-office and sent off a wire, requesting Bramham to meet him at the station or be at home waiting for him. When he came out of the little office he was still smoking placidly, but the writing on the telegraph-form resembled the writing of a drunken or palsied man.
On his return to the carriage he found that Miss Cornell had been good enough to remove her distracting presence to some other part of the train.