Cecil drummed upon the table with his fingers and raised his eyebrows slightly.
“He can’t very well refuse if we ask for it, can he?”
“I suppose not,” de Cartienne answered, lounging across the room towards the door. “I’ll go and see James and let him know that we shall want the latchkey.”
“All right. And I say, Len,” Cecil continued, “we must take Morton with us, of course.”
de Cartienne turned round with an angry frown upon his dark face.
“I scarcely see how that would be possible,” he said stiffly. “I think it would be taking rather a liberty with Fothergill. He only asks us two.”
In other circumstances I should promptly have refused to be one of the party, especially as the invitation appeared to come from a friend of de Cartienne’s. But the darkening shade which I had seen flash across de Cartienne’s face reawakened all my suspicions with regard to him and I instantly determined that, by some means or other, I would go. His evident reluctance to invite me only strengthened my intention, so, although he looked at me as if expecting to hear me express my indifference as to whether I went or not, I purposely refrained from doing anything of the sort.
“Oh, that’s all rot!” Cecil protested. “We can’t go off and leave Morton boxed up here by himself.”
“I don’t suppose Morton would care much about it,” said de Cartienne sullenly.
“On the contrary, I should enjoy it very much indeed,” I interposed; “although, of course, I don’t wish to go if you think that your friend would object,” I added blandly. “It’s rather dull here by oneself.”