Summing up the matter, as she did in a night made busy with the comings and goings of doctors, and vocal with the low-voiced agony of Mr. Superbus, Diana was glad that the man had escaped. She was sorry, extremely sorry about the Julian toe—a small toe by all accounts, and not especially valuable or wholly necessary to his complete enjoyment of life—still, it was his, and had been (as he explained between paroxysms) a close companion throughout his chequered life. He recounted stories about it, half fond, half wistful. Once he had dropped a hammer on it and had cursed it for being in the way. He regretted that now. It had been a gentle, easy-going toe, and had never given him trouble. Other toes had developed callosities that were painful; but this child of his heart amongst the pedal appendages had never given him a moment’s unease.
Yes, she was rather sorry, even though the doctor said he was in no pain and (not knowing the fearless character of the man) had given an opinion that Julius was more frightened than hurt. But she was glad Double Dan had gone ... ever so glad.
And the shooting had produced one most desirable result—Dempsi had been completely subdued ever since. Not once had he described her as his angel or his serene vision. He who had searched the heavens and starry spaces thereof for illustrations of her beauty, her charm and her numerous attractions, was satisfied with the most commonplace terminology.
“The fact is,” said Bobbie, “the poor Wop has never used an automatic before, and the darn thing went off before he realised he had touched the trigger.”
“Poor Wop!” Diana’s nose went up. “Poor Mr. Superbus rather!”
This was so long after breakfast that Bobbie had had time to make a call at Diana’s bank, and Mr. Dempsi was a notable absentee.
“How did you sleep?” he asked sympathetically.
“Terribly! Bobbie, did you get the money?”
“Yes, by great good luck your credits came through on Saturday. I have the money. The manager was full of apologies on behalf of self and bank. Here it is.” He produced from his hip pocket a thick wad of bills. “In American money. By some strange accident it is clean.”
She was thoughtful, biting her lip.