She laughed up in his face, and then Bones laughed, and they laughed together.
CHAPTER IV
THE PLOVER LIGHT CAR
The door of the private office opened and after a moment closed. It was, in fact, the private door of the private office, reserved exclusively for the use of the Managing Director of Schemes Limited. Nevertheless, a certain person had been granted the privilege of ingress and egress through that sacred portal, and Mr. Tibbetts, yclept Bones, crouching over his desk, the ferocity of his countenance intensified by the monocle which was screwed into his eye, and the terrific importance of his correspondence revealed by his disordered hair and the red tongue that followed the movements of his pen, did not look up.
"Put it down, put it down, young miss," he murmured, "on the table, on the floor, anywhere."
There was no answer, and suddenly Bones paused and scowled at the half-written sheet before him.
"That doesn't look right." He shook his head. "I don't know what's coming over me. Do you spell 'cynical' with one 'k' or two?"
Bones looked up.
He saw a brown-faced man, with laughing grey eyes, a tall man in a long overcoat, carrying a grey silk hat in his hand.
"Pardon me, my jolly old intruder," said Bones with dignity, "this is a private——" Then his jaw dropped and he leant on the desk for support. "Not my—— Good heavens!" he squeaked, and then leapt across the room, carrying with him the flex of his table lamp, which fell crashing to the floor.