The twelfth day since their return was a dark one for everybody. Max and Wally had to meet the enemy at eleven, in the lawyer’s office. The air was electric with Mrs. Bryce’s irritability. She left the two culprits in a state of collapse.
“One more performance like that, and I shall marry Jean Jacques Petard, and disappear,” announced Isabelle, violently, as the door closed on them.
“Isabelle, don’t talk like that,” begged Miss Watts.
“Let’s go back to Bermuda; I hate it here!” said the girl, going to the window. “We’ve got to get out of this hateful house. The spy will be busy this morning, so we’d better make the best of it.”
A motor drew up to the curb and a man got out, looking up at the numbers.
“O my Lord!” cried Isabelle, as if it were a prayer. She ran out of the room and down the hall, with Miss Watts, startled into action, hurrying after her. Before the bell sounded, Isabelle had the door open. Captain O’Leary looked, first surprised and then delighted.
“Cricket!” said he.
“Larry—Larry!” she cried.
He took both her hands and beamed on her—beamed. Then suddenly he was aware of Miss Watts, and he surprised everybody, including himself, by saluting that lady’s cheek.