Presently he heard the telephone bell ringing downstairs, and as he was not sure that Claudia was in, and as Mrs. Mayne was almost as ridiculous on the telephone as her husband, who invariably rang off while he went to find somebody less incompetent, Edgar walked out of the room. The bell had ceased ringing; but he proceeded as far as the clothes-cupboard where it was installed, on the chance that the answerer might not be Claudia. It was she, however. As Edgar put his head inside the clothes-cupboard she was saying "Hold on," and she turned as if to leave the cupboard in search of somebody who was wanted.
"Oh, there you are," said Claudia. "I didn't know you were in. It's Mr. Gaythorpe."
Edgar took the receiver from his sister's hand. Old Gaythorpe was one of those rare people who speak as clearly on the telephone as they would speak in a room. Every word he said was audible. Edgar could imagine the old man present. The dry wisdom of his manner was in an extraordinary degree conveyed by the sound of his voice.
"Look here, young man," said Gaythorpe. "I've been kept here by importunate suitors. My train has gone. I want to see you. Can I come to dinner?"
"Of course!" cried Edgar, foolhardy in giving such encouragement without consultation with the kitchen, but relying upon Mayne ingenuity to expand a meal at short notice.
"I'll take what Mrs. Mayne gives me," the voice continued, the voice of an experienced family man. "Right. I'll come along."
Edgar flung up the receiver. He turned to Claudia, who was leaning pensively against the doorpost, waiting to hear the worst.
"He's coming to dinner."
"Gracious!" exclaimed Claudia, blanching. "I must see mother! We've got one guest already—Olivia Stephens."
"Oh, do you know her?" said Edgar, surprised. He was familiar with the name; but he could not at first discover in what connection.