“If he were down in the mouth, one could feel sorry for him. But he looks as pleased as Punch with himself. And it’s such a beastly sort of crime—how am I to put it to Mabel? If I just say he’s been in prison, she’ll think it’s something even worse. Mother, do insist on his going at once. We can tell the servants he’s an uncle—who’s been in contact with smallpox.”
“You take him the coffee, Mother—oh, you can’t, if he’s to be an uncle! Jack, tell him nobody here knows, and mother can’t stand it; and hurry up! It’s half-past six now.”
The son passed his fingers through his brushed-back hair; his face looked youthful, desperate.
“Shall I?”
Mrs. Raider nodded.
“Tell him, Jack, that I’ll come out to him, wherever he likes to go; that I always expected him to arrange that; that this is—too difficult——” She covered her lips with her hand.
“All right, Mother! I’ll jolly well make him understand. But don’t launch out about it to the servants yet. Suppose it’s we who have to go? It’s his house!”
“Is it, Mother?”
“Yes; I bought it with his money under the power of attorney he left.”