She laughed up at him, all shining eyes and dimples.
Again—in spite of himself—he laughed back, pinching her cheek. "Will that please you, my little Chris?"
"Oh, ever so!" said Chris.
He stooped and lightly kissed her hair. "Then—so let it be!"
CHAPTER X
A SURPRISE VISIT
It was raining—one of those sudden, pelting showers that descend from June thunder-clouds, brief but drenching. It was also very dark, and Bertrand had switched on the light. He was seated at Mordaunt's writing-table, his black head bent over a pile of letters. The pen he held moved busily, but not very quickly. He was writing with extreme care. It was evident that he meant his first day's work to be a success. He scarcely noticed the heavy downpour, being profoundly intent upon the work he had in hand. Only at a sharp clap of thunder did he glance up momentarily and shrug his shoulders. But he was at once immersed again in his occupation, so deeply immersed that at the opening of the door he did not turn his head.
Holmes paused just inside the room. "If you please, sir—"
"Ah, put it down, put it down!" said the Frenchman impatiently. "I am busy."
But Holmes, being empty-handed, did not comply with the request. He remained hesitating, obviously doubtful, till with a sharp jerk de Montville turned in his chair.