“You can't blame her for thinking that this crowd needs watching,” I suggested with as much of airiness as I could throw into my manner.
Dicky shook his head for a second, and then resumed his light-hearted, bantering way. Yet I could see that he was perplexed and anxious about something that had come to his attention on our arrival.
“You'll not want to attend to business till all the boys are here?” asked Dicky.
“Not unless there's something to be done,” I responded dryly.
Dicky gave me a quick glance.
“Of course,” he said with a laugh that was not quite easy, “not unless there's something to be done. But I thought there was something.”
“You've got a fine mind for thinking, Dicky,” I replied. “You'd better cultivate it.”
“Well, they say there's nothing like society for that sort of cultivation,” said Dicky with another laugh. “They don't say what kind, but I've got a pretty good stock here to choose from.” He was at his ease in banter again, but it struck unpleasantly on me that there was something behind.
“Oh, here's a queer friend,” he said suddenly, looking to the door. “I'd better speak to him on the matter of countersigns.”
“By all means,” I said, turning in my chair to survey the new-comer.