CHAPTER IX
A KETTLE OF FISH
Few disputes exist which have not had their origin in women—Juvenal.
I saw the heavy face of Mr. Pakenham go pale, saw the face of the Baroness von Ritz flash with a swift resolution, saw the eyes of Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Tyler meet in firmness. An instant later, Mr. Tyler rose and bowed our dismissal. Our little play was done. Which of us knew all the motives that had lain behind its setting?
Mr. Pakenham drew apart and engaged in earnest speech with the lady who had accompanied him; so that meantime I myself found opportunity for a word with Mr. Calhoun.
"Now," said I, "the fat certainly is all in the fire!"
"What fat, my son?" asked Calhoun serenely; "and what fire?"
"At least"—and I grinned covertly, I fear—"it seems all over between my lady and her protector there. She turned traitor just when he had most need of her! Tell me, what argument did you use with her last night?"
Mr. Calhoun took snuff.