Only after he had replaced the receiver did he remember that he had not told Thomson where he was speaking from, but decided it wasn’t worth while putting another call through. For to-night at least he would not be wanted, and he would strive to dismiss the whole tragedy from his mind. What a queer old stick Thomson was, but a good sort too! And that astounding news of the recovery of the papers was very reassuring.
Now for Grace—his own, his beloved! He went up in the lift, and tapped softly at the bedroom door. It opened instantly, and there she stood, fresh and fair, in a simple evening gown of some filmy grey stuff, a shy smile on her dear lips.
“Oh, what a tired and grubby boy!” she laughed. “He wants his dinner very badly, he does, and I b’lieve I do too! As the king and queen are travelling without attendants on this interesting occasion, the queen (that’s me) has laid out your things, sir—your majesty, I mean—and quite correctly I’m sure. I’ve done it so often for daddy. Now, don’t be long!”
“I shan’t be ten minutes, darling,” Roger assured her, and was almost as good as his word.
As charming a pair of lovers as could be found in the whole, wide world they looked, as they sat facing each other at the daintily appointed dinner-table, with the head waiter—a little apple-cheeked, grey-haired, blue-eyed old man with an expansive smile—gliding in and out and ministering to their wants with paternal solicitude. He knew well enough what was due to the occasion; those travel-worn trunks hadn’t deceived him, any more than they had deceived the railway porter or anyone else! And the flourish with which he presented the wine list was mere pretence, for when, after a short discussion, they decided on champagne, he didn’t even have to go to fetch it, but instantly produced a magnum of the best, placed there, all ready, on the sideboard.
Dinner over, they moved to the big chesterfield drawn up before the blazing fire, and sat down in discreet silence till the table was cleared and the beneficent waiter finally departed.
“At last!” said Roger, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into the fire, and drawing his wife to him. “Isn’t this cosy and jolly, darling?”
“Lovely,” Grace murmured, snuggling happily in his arm. “Almost as good as our own home’s going to be. Don’t you wish we were there already, Roger, sitting in front of our very own fire?”
“I don’t wish for anything better in the world than to have you beside me, sweetheart,” he responded.