“It was like the pleasantry of a beautiful, roguish little girl”—he began, smiling nervously down at her—“your saying that you belonged to a generation earlier than mine. Do you think I do not know my generation? And am I blind, that I do not see what is most precious in it? This is what——”
An extraordinary outburst of disputing voices, in the little hallway close at hand, broke in upon his words. He stopped, stared inquiringly at Lady Cressage, and beheld her rise, frowning and hard-eyed, and step toward the door. A vague sense of the familiar came to him from the louder of the accents outside.
The door was opened, and the domestic, red-faced, and spluttering with wrath, began some stammered explanation to her mistress. What she sought to say did not appear, for on the instant the door was pushed farther back, and a veiled lady took up her energetic stand upon the threshold.
“Don’t blame her,” this lady cried, in high, rapid tones. “I forced my way in—something told me that you were at home. And when you hear my news——”
“Oh, since you are here”—Lady Cressage began, coldly. “But, really, Mrs. Torr——”
“Oh, no—call me Cora!” the other interrupted, vivaciously.
She went further, and bustling her arms against Edith’s shoulders, purported to kiss her on both cheeks. Then, drawing back her head, she went on: “My dear, the duke died at two this morning! It’s in all the papers. But what isn’t in any of the papers is that the heir is missing. It’s a very curious story. Mr. Westland here”—by her gesture it seemed that Dicky was behind her in the hallway—“went to Duke Street this noon, and found Christian’s man in great alarm. The youngster had bolted, leaving a note saying merely that he was called away. Mr. Westland’ then hunted me up, and we started out, for I had a kind of clue, don’t you see. I knew where he was at ten o’clock this forenoon—and we drove to Arundel Street, and there we found——”
Christian hurriedly stepped forward. “Oh, I think you may take it that I am not lost,” he called out, revealing himself to the astonished Cora. For the moment the chief thing in his mind was satisfaction at having interrupted her disclosures about Arundel Street.
Then, as other thoughts crowded in upon him, he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. “It’s all right,” he said, with a reassuring wave of the hand toward the womenfolk of his family.