“Throw some things into a bag. You’ll soon forget your sordid money affairs and begin to live, and you’d better be prepared for anything that turns up. I’ll fold the coats; some old fishing-togs for rough work and jails, and even your dress suit may come in handy.”
He fell to work, folding the suits neatly, while Deering moved about like a man in a trance, assembling linen and toilet articles.
“Something tells me we’re going to have a pretty good time,” continued Hood musingly. “I’ll show you untold kingdoms, things that never were on sea or land. We shall meet people worn with the world-old struggle for things they don’t need, and who are out in the tender May air looking for happiness—the only business, my dear boy, that’s really worth while. And you’ll be surprised, son, to find how many such people there are.”
“Ah, you’re ready, Cassowary!” remarked Hood as they stepped out of the side door where a big touring-car was drawn up in the driveway. “Just a moment till I get my stick.”
Briggs had placed their bags in the car, and Deering had a moment in which to observe the chauffeur, who stood erect and touched his cap. Hood’s protégé proved to be a tall, dark, well-knit young fellow dressed in a well-fitting chauffeur’s costume.
“It’s a good night for a run,” Deering suggested, eying the man in the light from the door.
“Fine, sir.”
“I hope the people in the house took good care of you.”
“Very good, sir.”
There was nothing in Cassowary’s voice or manner to indicate that he was the possessor of the fortune to which Hood had referred so lightly. Deering’s hastily formed impressions of Hood’s chauffeur were wholly agreeable and satisfying.