"I fear, sir," he said, "it would be an intrusion upon your family."
The stout gentleman shook his head earnestly.
"Nobody home, viscount. No family; no servants. Everybody gone away somewhere. Everybody on a party. I'm on party; you're on party. You and me play li'l cowboy pool."
So saying, he linked his arm affectionately into one of Pete's and led him firmly into the house. He led him through several rooms, pausing in each to press buttons, so that the apartments through which they strolled became ablaze with lights. No ordinary summer cottage was this, Pete learned, as his eyes appraised each successive revelation; it was a mansion.
"Family all in society, viscount," confided the stout gentleman, as he clung to Pete's arm. "All hittin' high spots. Wife, society; daughter, society; son, society. Old man, cowboy pool. C'mon."
While Pete Stearns was conscious of his own informalities of costume, it seemed that his host had not given the matter a thought. The purple and green coat of silk did not appear to have attracted his attention, nor the other garment, that was striped in salmon pink. If the stout gentleman owned the straw hat that Pete had discovered on the porch, he displayed no sign of recognition. He was, in fact, surprised at nothing whatever.
In the billiard room the shaded lights that were suspended over the table did not satisfy him, for he made a complete circuit of the apartment, turning on all the lights in the wall sockets.
"'Smore cheerful," he explained. "Find a cue, prince."
"Viscount, sir."