That evening entered Pillar. “Tooke is here, sir.”
“Send him in,” said Marcus, glad that his anger had in no way grown less during the day.
Entered Tooke, cap in hand. A chauffeur unarmed: he said nothing, of course. But there was a look in his eyes that said as clearly as though he had spoken it—as man to man: “What would you have done in my place? What would you have done if she had arst you?”
A capless, unarmed chauffeur, yet armed to the eyes—invulnerable was Tooke.
“Tooke?”
“Sir?”
“Car run well?”
“Fine, sir.”
“I was thinking, Tooke, that we ought to have a lining made if Miss Diana is going much into the country—what is the stuff? You know—kind of drill, isn’t it? It would save the lining; see to it, will you?”
“Very good, sir. A detachable lining, I take it you mean, sir?”