"Yes. Everything is ready for your occupancy. Your butler and first man have everything ship-shape. I could have turned over to you Mr. Jones's."
"Not at all, not at all," said the Major. "They would have been strangers to us and we to them. Our own servants are best."
"You must be very good friends of my client?"
"I have known him for years," said Mrs. Chedsoye sweetly. "It was at his own suggestion that we take the house over for the month. He really insisted that we should pay him nothing; but, of course, such an arrangement could not be thought of. Oh, good-by, Mr. Wallace," tolerantly. "We hope to see you again some day."
Wallace, taking up his role once more, tipped his hat and rushed away for one of his favorite haunts.
"Bounder!" growled the Major. "Well, well; a ship's deck is always Liberty-Hall."
"You have turned your belongings over to an expressman?" asked the agent. These were charming people; and any doubts he might have entertained were dissipated. And why should he have any doubts? Jones was an eccentric young chap, anyhow. An explanatory letter (written by the Major in Jones's careless hand), backed up by a cable, was enough authority for any reasonable man.
"Everything is out of the way," said the Major.
"Then, if you wish, I can take you right up to the house in my car. Your butler said that he would have lunch ready when you arrived."