He started away as Mr. Rodney came puffing up the stairs. Odell-Carney changed his mind and waited.
"Where's Edith?" panted Mr. Rodney.
"Good heavens!" groaned his wife, lowering her voice because three chambermaids were looking on from a near-by turn. "Don't mention that creature's name. Just think what she's got us into. He isn't her husband. Alfred, telephone for tickets on to-night's train. To-morrow will be too late. I won't stay here another minute. Everybody in the hotel is talking. We'll all be arrested."
But Mr. Rodney, for once, was the head of the family. He faced her sternly.
"Go to your rooms, both of you. We'll stay here until this thing is ended. I don't give a hang what she's done, I'm not going to desert her."
"But—but he isn't her husband," gasped Mrs. Rodney, struck dumb by this amazing rebellion.
"But she's your cousin, isn't she, madam?" he retorted with fierce irony.
"I disown her!" wailed his wife, sans raison.
"Go to your rooms!" stormed pudgy Mr. Rodney. Then, as they slunk away, he turned to the approving Odell-Carney, sticking out his chest a trifle in his new-found authority. "I say, Carney, what's to be done next?"
The other looked at him for a moment as if in doubt. Then his face cleared, and he took the little man's arm in his.