“Of course, I don’t. Didn’t I say you shouldn’t be known in the affair? Stop at once and let me go on alone. Milt, if there’s another glassful left in that bottle I’ll take it.”
“Better not, Rose; you’ve had enough, I’m thinking.”
“Never mind what you are ‘thinking,’ I’m the best judge of what I want. A fresh glassful and a fresh cigarette, please; I’m going to interview my sister-in-law. Thank you so much! Here’s health and prosperity to all of us. And now—for trouble.”
Speaking, she scrambled down from the vehicle—a little unsteadily, as both Mr. Bodwin and Mr. Dante observed—and, cigarette in mouth, ran jauntily up to the veranda.
“Good evening, my dear,” she said, as she skipped airily into the veranda and confronted Mrs. Bonair. “You needn’t wait any longer for Mr. Hazlitt, because he hasn’t the slightest knowledge of the wire that was sent you, and I dare say that he has been in bed and asleep for hours. Need I introduce myself?”
Berry turned quickly, and faced her visitor. There was a brief pause; then she answered with cold, calm, scornful dignity:
“No, that is not in the least necessary. But you may tell me, if you wish, why you presume to come here.”
“I have come to either open your precious moneybags or to make you pay dearly for trying to shut me out of Crumplesea.”
Berry gave a sort of faint gasp—so low that it was scarcely audible—then pulled herself together and tapped on the pane of the nearest window.
“Thompson,” she said imperatively; “Thompson, come out here at once and take this creature away.”