“Gorilla, old dear,” returned Hugh, unmoved. “A docile little creature I had to kill.”
“The man,” murmured Algy, “is indubitably mad. I’m going to crank the car.”
II
“Go away,” said Toby, looking up as the door opened and Hugh strolled in. “Your presence is unnecessary and uncalled for, and we’re not pleased. Are we, Miss Benton?”
“Can you bear him, Phyllis?” remarked Hugh, with a grin. “I mean lying about the house all day?”
“What’s the notion, old son?” Toby Sinclair stood up, looking slightly puzzled.
“I want you to stop here, Toby,” said Hugh, “and not let Miss Benton out of your sight. Also keep your eye skinned on The Elms, and let me know by ’phone to Half Moon Street anything that happens. Do you get me?”
“I get you,” answered the other, “but I say, Hugh, can’t I do something a bit more active? I mean, of course, there’s nothing I’d like better than to...” He broke off in mild confusion as Phyllis Benton laughed merrily.
“Do something more active!” echoed Hugh. “You bet your life, old boy. A rapid one-step out of the room. You’re far too young for what’s coming now.”
With a resigned sigh Toby rose and walked to the door.