They were still sitting at the table when a telegram arrived, which Eddie opened and read with a frown.
"Confound it!" he said. "Here’s a nice row! Vincent’s getting a bit too bad. This really puts me in a very awkward position. I gave him a letter to give to a man, and apparently he never did. I’ll have to get hold of him now, and find out what he did do with it."
He rose from the table, and so did Polly and Mrs. Russell.
"What’s the matter?" cried Polly, with an anxiety that seemed to Angelica extreme. "What has Vincent done?"
"I gave him a letter to deliver to a man who was leaving for San Francisco—an important letter; and now the fellow telegraphs that he’s reached there, and that the letter hasn’t reached him yet. He should have got it a week ago, before he left.
"But don’t bother Vincent to-night!" implored his mother. "You can’t do anything now. Wait till morning!"
"Why shouldn’t I bother him? He’s bothered me enough! I’m not going to humour him in this damn fool idea of shutting himself up like a—— He’ll have to behave like a human being!"
Polly laid a soothing hand on his arm.
"Do wait till the morning, Eddie," she said. "You know it’s at night that he does his best work, and it seems a pity to disturb him."
"What about it’s being a pity to disturb me while I’m eating my dinner, to try and rectify one of his beastly, inexcusable blunders? No, by Jove, I’m entitled to some consideration! He’s got to come out and tell me what he did."