Having with some awkwardness and difficulty disposed of Mrs. Brink, the housekeeper, who showed a disposition to dawdle at her work so that she might gossip with him, Rodrigo, at three o'clock that afternoon, was trying desperately to interest himself in a newspaper. He was arrayed in a purple silken dressing-gown. Soft cushions were piled invitingly upon the divan. The shades had been drawn discreetly, so that the room was in a semi-shadow. Whisky and soda stood upon a slim taboret.
He waited impatiently for fifteen minutes. Then his nerves tingled as he heard the elevator door outside roll open and someone stepped out into the corridor. An instant later the apartment bell chimed. Rodrigo gravely arose. His face broke into an excellent imitation of a smile of hearty welcome. He opened the door. A freckle-faced, gawky messenger boy grinned on the threshold, handed him two telegrams and pointed with a chewed stump of a pencil where to sign in the book.
Rodrigo, mystified and disappointed, broke the envelope of one of the telegrams. His face turned pale and his chin quivered, like a man suddenly attacked with a chill, as he read:
Congratulate me. Elise and I married at Greenwich five minutes ago. I am the happiest man in the world.
JOHN.
He walked falteringly over to the deep armchair and sat down before he had the courage to open the other yellow container.
Sorry I had to miss our engagement. Just as well perhaps. Forgive me for influencing John to break his date.
ELISE VAN ZILE.
For the first time in his life, Rodrigo cursed a lady. But mingled with his resentment against her was a frank tribute to her cleverness. For he hadn't a doubt in the world now but that Elise had seen through his stratagem and had taken this decisive step to outwit him.