“Then I may write, or telegraph, to these men, and tell them to come?” asked Cornish.
“Most certainly, my dear Anthony. We will collect them, or muster them, as White calls it, in London, and then send them to Scheveningen, as before, when Roden and Herr von Holzen are ready for them. Send a note to White, whose department this mustering is. As a soldier he understands the handling of a body of men. You and I are more competent to deal with a sum of money.”
Lord Ferriby glanced towards the door to make sure that it was open, so that the German clerk in the outer office should lose nothing that could only be for his good—might, in fact, pick up a few crumbs from the richly stored table of a great man's mind.
Lord Ferriby leisurely withdrew his gloves and laid them on the inlaid bureau. He had the physique of a director of public companies, and the grave manner that impresses shareholders. He talked of the weather, drew Cornish's attention to a blot of ink on the high-art wallpaper, and then put on his gloves again, well pleased with himself and his morning's work.
“Everything appears to be in order, my dear Anthony,” he said. “So there is nothing to keep me here any longer.”
“Nothing,” replied Cornish; and his lordship departed.
Cornish remained until it was time to go across St. James's Park to his club to lunch. He answered a certain number of letters himself, the others he handed over to the German clerk—a man with all the virtues, smooth, upright hair, and a dreamy eye. The malgamite makers were bidden to come as soon as they liked. After luncheon Cornish had to hurry back to Great George Street. This was one of his busy days. At four o'clock there was to be a meeting of the floor committee of the approaching ball, and Cornish remembered that he had been specially told to get a new bass string for the banjo. The Hon. Rupert Dalkyn had promised to come, but had vowed that he would not touch the banjo again unless it had new strings. So Cornish bought the bass string at the Army and Navy Stores, and the first preparation for the meeting of the floor committee was the tuning of the banjo by the German clerk.
There were, of course, flowers to be bought and arranged tant bien que mal in empty ink-stands, a conceit of Joan's, who refused to spend the fund money in any ornament less serious, while she quite recognized the necessity for flowers on the table of a mixed committee.
The Hon. Rupert was the first to arrive. He was very small and neat and rather effeminate. The experienced could tell at a glance that he came from a fighting stock. He wore a grave and rather preoccupied air. He sat down on the arm of a chair and looked sadly into the fire, while his lips moved.
“Got something on your mind?” asked Cornish, who was putting the finishing touches to the arrangement of the room.