“I have come from the Direct Insurance in the hope of being able to see Mrs Straithwaite,” he explained, when the door opened rather suddenly before he had knocked. “My name is Carrados—Max Carrados.”
There was a moment of hesitation all round. Then Stephanie read difficulties in the straightening lines of her husband’s face and rose joyfully to the occasion.
“Oh yes; come in, Mr Carrados,” she exclaimed graciously. “We are not quite strangers, you know. You found out something for Aunt Pigs; I forget what, but she was most frantically impressed.”
“Lady Poges,” enlarged Straithwaite, who had stepped aside and was watching the development with slow, calculating eyes. “But, I say, you are blind, aren’t you?”
Carrados’s smiling admission turned the edge of Mrs Straithwaite’s impulsive, “Teddy!”
“But I get along all right,” he added. “I left my man down in the car and I found your door first shot, you see.”
The references reminded the velvet-eyed little mercenary that the man before her had the reputation of being quite desirably rich, his queer taste merely an eccentric hobby. The consideration made her resolve to be quite her nicest possible, as she led the way to the drawing-room. Then Teddy, too, had been horrid beyond words and must be made to suffer in the readiest way that offered.
“Teddy is just going out and I was to be left in solitary bereavement if you had not appeared,” she explained airily. “It wasn’t very compy only to come to see me on business by the way, Mr Carrados, but if those are your only terms I must agree.”
Straithwaite, however, did not seem to have the least intention of going. He had left his hat and stick in the hall and he now threw his yellow gloves down on a table and took up a negligent position on the arm of an easy-chair.
“The thing is, where do we stand?” he remarked tentatively.