The flavor of the sandwich was quite equal to its appearance. But it was a mere prelude to the repast. There was a profusion of excellent things, not a vulgar or ostentatious profusion, but the case had come from a land flowing with milk and honey. Miss Cass was firmly required to do her part with both kinds of sandwiches—dreams of sandwiches they were!—alluring biscuits and rich, almond-studded cake. Above all—and to be perfectly frank there would be no story without it—she was compelled to drink honest measure of a generous and full-bodied wine.
The sombre eyes of Pikey glistened when she took this royal vintage out of its improvised cradle and held it up to the light. “Herself said it would be good on the journey,” she announced.
“I know you are clever with corkscrews, Pikey,” said Lady Elfreda, handing the implement persuasively.
Pikey was very clever indeed with corkscrews if her present performance was anything to go by.
“Be very ca-re-ful how you pour it out.” Such words were superfluous, which Lady Elfreda well knew; in point of fact, they were a mere concession to the famous cellar of Castle Carabbas, for Pikey showed herself a past mistress in the art of decanting a great wine under trying conditions.
“Clever Pikey!”
Clever enough. The Werewolf had not dwelt from babyhood at Castle Carabbas and brought up half a dozen members of the Family without acquiring knowledge which in some quarters was rated highly.
When she had delicately filled the tumbler to two-thirds of its capacity she handed it to her mistress with something of the air of sovereign pontiff. But to Pikey’s cold disgust that Irresponsible offered it to the lady of the green ulster. Nay, she did more than offer it. She pressed it upon the almost too obvious third-class passenger with a cunning that made resistance almost impossible.
“Do—please! You have such a long journey.” The blue eyes were smiling. “It will do you so much good.” The tone was charming entreaty.
“But—but!” faltered Miss Cass.