Beatrice was eying him reproachfully; but as Hank was watching her she did not venture to protest. “I’ll see you to-morrow morning,” said she.
“Oh, no—don’t bother to come. I’ll let you know when I need you.”
“So this is where you’ve been spending your mornings?” said Vanderkief.
“Some of them,” replied Beatrice. “It was to have been a surprise. Still— You didn’t let them see it, did you, Chang?”
“Not a peep,” he assured her.
Vanderkief’s tension somewhat relaxed. Roger admired the innocent Miss Richmond. Really, she had been displaying a genius for deception—whose art lies in saying just enough and leaving it to the dupe’s own imagination to do the heavy work of deceit. The parting was accomplished in good order, Vanderkief showing a disposition to be apologetically polite to Roger now that he had convinced himself he was mistaken in his first jealous surmises. “If you make a good job of Miss Richmond,” said he graciously, “I’ll see that a lot of things are put in your way.”
Roger thanked him with a simple gratitude that put him in excellent humor with himself. After the three set out Beatrice came running back. “You saved me,” she said. “I’m so ashamed for having dragged you into such a mess. But you must do one thing more. You must come to dinner.”
“Can’t do it,” said Roger. “Here’s where I step out.”
This seemed to astonish her. She looked at him doubtfully, was so agitated by his expression that she hastily cried, “Oh, no, you’ll not desert me. I admit it’s my fault. But you wouldn’t be so unfriendly as to get me into trouble!”
“How would I get you into trouble? It’s just the other way. If I came to your house it’d make a tangle that even Vanderkief would see.”