“Very ingenious indeed,” said T. X. “If I had a brain like yours,” he paused, “I should do something with it—with a gun,” he added, as he passed out of the room.
CHAPTER IX
“My dear Mr. Meredith,
“I cannot tell you how unhappy and humiliated I feel that my
little joke with you should have had such an uncomfortable
ending. As you know, and as I have given you proof, I have
the greatest admiration in the world for one whose work for
humanity has won such universal recognition.
“I hope that we shall both forget this unhappy morning and
that you will give me an opportunity of rendering to you in
person, the apologies which are due to you. I feel that
anything less will neither rehabilitate me in your esteem,
nor secure for me the remnants of my shattered self-respect.
“I am hoping you will dine with me next week and meet a most
interesting man, George Gathercole, who has just returned
from Patagonia,—I only received his letter this morning—
having made most remarkable discoveries concerning that
country.
“I feel sure that you are large enough minded and too much a
man of the world to allow my foolish fit of temper to
disturb a relationship which I have always hoped would be
mutually pleasant. If you will allow Gathercole, who will
be unconscious of the part he is playing, to act as
peacemaker between yourself and myself, I shall feel that
his trip, which has cost me a large sum of money, will not
have been wasted.
“I am, dear Mr. Meredith,
“Yours very sincerely,
“REMINGTON KARA.”
Kara folded the letter and inserted it in its envelope. He rang a bell on his table and the girl who had so filled T. X. with a sense of awe came from an adjoining room.
“You will see that this is delivered, Miss Holland.”
She inclined her head and stood waiting. Kara rose from his desk and began to pace the room.
“Do you know T. X. Meredith?” he asked suddenly.
“I have heard of him,” said the girl.
“A man with a singular mind,” said Kara; “a man against whom my favourite weapon would fail.”