“I feel every moment that a clock will strike and that it will all fade away.”
“I'm afraid I'm too material for such imaginings,” Francis replied, “but there is a quaintly artificial air about it all. We must go and look for Wilmore and Lady Cynthia.”
They turned back into the enervating atmosphere of the winter-garden, and came suddenly face to face with Sir Timothy, who had escorted a little party of his guests to see the fountain, and was now returning alone.
“You have been dancing, I am glad to see,” the latter observed. “I trust that you are amusing yourselves?”
“Excellently, thank you,” Francis replied.
“And so far,” Sir Timothy went on, with a faint smile, “you find my entertainment normal? You have no question yet which you would like to ask?”
“Only one—what do you do with your launch up the river on moonless nights, Sir Timothy?”
Sir Timothy's momentary silence was full of ominous significance.
“Mr. Ledsam,” he said, after a brief pause, “I have given you almost carte blanche to explore my domains here. Concerning the launch, however, I think that you had better ask no questions at present.”
“You are using it to-night?” Francis persisted.