"Enough to hang anybody, isn't it?" she cried, with dolorous effort to speak in lighter vein.
"May I retain this? I shall take good care of it."
"Keep it as a souvenir. The identical book is lying on the library table."
Yet her mobile face clouded again, since it could not be denied that her father knew well that the book was in the Elmdale house, and was deliberately ignoring its existence there.
Armathwaite affected to look through the window.
"Hullo!" he said. "Whittaker has come back."
Whittaker, standing sideways, seemingly discovered them simultaneously. He came in.
"Thompson speaks a language of his own," he drawled; "but the dispatch of a boy on a bicycle, and the resultant charge of three shillings, gave color to my belief that he understood the meaning of 'telegram.' Otherwise, his remarks were gibberish."
"Percy," said Marguérite gravely, "Mr. Armathwaite and I have had a serious talk while you were out. He advised me to send for my mother, but, for various reasons, I have decided to fight this battle myself, with your aid, and Mr. Armathwaite's, of course."
Whittaker hesitated perceptibly before he spoke again. Like all neurotics, he had to flog himself into decision.