Chapter Eight.
“Valesca.”
”‘Oh, to think how I trusted you,’” repeated Major Winchester, “hum, hum,” and he read on a few sentences to himself consideringly.
“Yes,” said Imogen, “and ‘Hubert’, you know, is Mr Calthorp. Just fancy! If only I were going to do it with you now, Major Winchester, I—”
She stopped short. The sound of a door softly shutting startled her. “What was that?” she said.
“Oh, nothing; some unfortunate actor seeking the solitude of the library to study his part in,” said Rex.
He went on reading for a minute or two. Neither he nor Imogen heard a door overhead open, even more softly than the other one had closed.
“Fancy,” Imogen repeated, “Mr Calthorp, Major Winchester. Now, if you were it, I am sure I could do it better.”
“For your sake I wish I were, though the character is scarcely one which recommends itself to me,” he said. “But now, look here, my dear child;” and he leant forward towards her a little, while he pointed out a passage on the page; “when you come to—” And he proceeded to emphasise a line or two.