While Johnny was still smarting from the burden of that information and wondering what spot of the globe would be most endurable at the present moment, Courtney came through the hall on some hostly errand.
"Say, Johnny," he blundered in an excess of well-meaning, "why don't you rest from business for a minute? Why aren't you out among some of these shady paths with Constance Joy? You've cinched your million, now go get the girl."
This was too much for the tortured Johnny, and the smoldering agony within him burst into flame.
"Look here, Courtney!" he declared with a vehemence which really seemed quite unnecessary, "I'm going to marry Constance Joy whether she likes it or not!"
A flash of white at the head of the stairs caught Johnny's eye. It was Constance! There was no hope that she had not heard!
"What's the matter?" asked Courtney, startled by the remarkable change in his countenance.
"I've got the stomach ache!" groaned Johnny with clumsy evasion, though possibly he was truthful after all.
"You must have some whisky," insisted Courtney, instantly concerned.
A servant came out of the library.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he remarked, "but I believe this must be your hat, Mr. Gamble."