"Enthusiastically and yet with all humility for I have no red carpet to run down the stair."
"Then hold on to him, please."
Ouf! sighed Cassy, as she hung it up. Another man who might be Mrs. Yallum's husband! She took the telephone-book, found and memorised the address and turned to Harris. "Thank you very much. Will you mind giving me that package?"
"Beg pardon, ma'am," the little man said, as he opened the door for her. "There's nothing more amiss, is there?"
Cassy covered him with her lovely eyes. "When Mr. Lennox comes back here, he may tell you to unpack."
"Then may God bless your ladyship."
Cassy went on.
At Jones' shop, a floor in a reconstructed private house, a man who had the air of performing a feat, showed her into a room that was summarily, but not spartanly, furnished. On one side was a bookcase supported by caryatides. Above, hung a stretch of silk on which was a flight of dragons. Above the silk was an ivory mask. Fronting the bookcase was the biggest table that Cassy had ever seen.
Jones, vacating the table, advanced to greet her. Perched on his shoulder, was a cat that peered at her. It had long hair, the colour of smoke; a bushy tail; the eyes of an angel and a ferocious moustache.
Although Cassy had other matters in hand, she exclaimed at it. "What a duck!"