“I was able to give him some information which made him change his plans quite suddenly,” he explained. “So he packed up and went. He had not much to pack. We travel light—he and I. We have no despatch-boxes or note-books or diaries. What we remember and forget we remember and forget in our own heads. Though I doubt whether Cartoner forgets anything.”
“And you?” asked Wanda, turning upon him quickly.
“I? Oh! I do my best,” he said, lightly. “But if you desire to forget anything you should begin early. It is not a habit acquired in later life.”
He rose as he spoke and looked at the clock. He had a habit of peering and contracting his round brown eyes which made many people think that he was short-sighted.
“I do not think I will wait for the Mangles,” he said. “Especially Julie. I do not feel in the humor for Julie. By-the-way—” He paused, and contemplated the fire thoughtfully. “You never talk politics, I know. With the Mangles you may go further, and not even talk of politicians. It is no affair of theirs that Cartoner may have quitted Warsaw—you understand?”
“I should have thought Mr. Joseph Mangles the incarnation of discretion,” said Wanda.
“Ah! You have found out Mangles, have you? I wonder if you have found us all out. Yes, Mangles is discreet, but Netty is not. I call her Netty—well, because I regard her with a secret and consuming passion.”
“And have an equally secret and complete contempt for her discretion.”
“Ah!” he exclaimed, and turned to look at her again. “Have I concealed my admiration so successfully as that? Perhaps I have overdone the concealment.”
“Perhaps you have overdone the contempt,” suggested Wanda. “She is probably more discreet than you think, but I shall not put her to the test.”