“The long arm of coincidence,” opined his Grace with a wry smile. He opined further that the whole thing began to sound uncommonly like a novel.
“Sober reality, I assure you, Johnnie. And sober reality can beat any novel in the power of the human mind to invent, that’s why it’s so stupid to write them. Muriel entered the house by chance, Mrs. Sanderson came there, and presently, if you please, Master Jack arrived by motor with the young person. By the way, Muriel says she is very good looking.”
“Quite a family party.” His Grace achieved a light tone with difficulty. “But I incline to think, Charlotte, you a little overstate the facts.”
“It is the story Muriel told Sarah.”
“Well, I am very unwilling to believe that Mrs. Sanderson knew what was going on.”
“Pray, why not?” He was raked by a goshawk’s eye.
“She would have told me.”
Somehow those lame, impotent words revealed a man badly hit. Charlotte saw that at once, and forthwith proceeded to turn the fact to pitiless advantage. A gust of coarse laughter swept the room.
“Johnnie, it’s the first time I’ve read you a fool. Simple Simon! Do you think a woman who has learned to play her cards like that is the one to give away her hand?”
This was a second blow planted neatly on the vizor of his Grace. In spite of his armor of cynicism he could be seen to wince a little. And the silence which followed enabled the implacable foe to perceive that he was shaken worse than it seemed reasonable to expect him to be.