To their habitual attitude of mutual admiration they now added an apparently inexhaustible stock of recondite jests and allusions utterly unintelligible to anybody but themselves.
When Lady Rossiter made civil enquiry of Mr. Garrett as to the length of time he could afford to remain away from his journalistic work in London, he scarcely troubled to answer her, but directed a meaning look towards Iris and said darkly:
"Ah, what would the old man say to that? It tallies quite oddly with that letter we were speaking of, doesn't it?"
"Yes, indeed," said Iris obligingly. "You know what I said about telepathy, too, Douglas."
"What?" Lady Rossiter not unnaturally wanted to know.
Iris' reply was unsatisfactory rather than informative.
"Oh, just something foolish Douglas and I had been discussing. He's too silly sometimes, you know."
"You forget our old friend McTavish," retorted Douglas, with an air of dry repartee that would have been more effective had anyone, with the presumable exception of Iris, been in possession of any clue as to the identity of McTavish.
An appreciative laugh from Miss Easter rippled lightly through the rather embarrassed silence.
"Oh, poor McTavish! You're always flourishing that creature at me!"