“How about the South American investment? I wish you wouldn’t go into it——”
“So, evidently, does Foulkes!” Storm retorted. “I had it out with him to-day, and the old pettifogger talked as though I were the original Jonah; told me to my face that I had no head for business——”
“Well, he’s right on that,” remarked the other, with the candor of long association. “This South American thing isn’t sound; I’ve looked into it, and I know. The big fellows would have taken hold of it long ago if it had been worth while. You certainly cannot afford to take a chance where they won’t.”
The discussion which ensued lasted until the station was reached and Holworthy, with a final wave of his hand, disappeared into the smoker of the train which was just pulling out.
Storm had had rather the better of the argument, as usual, for the other’s slower mind was not sufficiently agile to grasp his brilliant but shallow points and turn them against him, and he started homeward in high good humor. How peaceful and still everything lay under the pale shimmering haze of moonlight! Leila would be fast asleep by now. What a child she was at heart, in spite of her twenty-eight years! How she had hesitated, even over that little white lie that she had been to Ferndale Inn with Julie Brewster, and how stupid he had been to force it by questioning her before George!
The house as he approached it lay cloaked in darkness amid the shadow of the trees save only the subdued ray of light which shone out from the hall door, which in the custom of Greenlea he had left ajar. His footsteps made no sound on the soft, springing turf of the lawn, but when he reached the veranda the sharp, insistent shrill of the telephone came to his ears.
As he started forward it ceased abruptly, and to his amazement he heard Leila’s voice in a murmur of hushed inquiry. The murmur was prolonged, and after a moment he slipped into the hall and stood motionless, unconscious of his act, listening with every nerve strained to the words which issued from the library.
“It is a frightful risk, dear! . . . I know, I’ve had to fib about it already to him . . . No, of course he doesn’t, but what if others . . . . Yes, but he has only gone to the station with George Holworthy; he’ll be back any minute, and then what can I say? . . . . Of course I will, I promised, but you must be mad! . . . Yes, in ten minutes.”
Storm heard the receiver click and had only time to shrink back into the embrasure of the window when Leila emerged from the library, still clad in her dinner gown, and passing him swiftly, seized a long, dark cloak from the rack and sped noiselessly out of the door.
Storm’s breath caught harshly in his throat, and he took an impetuous step or two after her, Then he halted, and with head erect and clenched hands he turned and mounted the stairs.