“Oh, don’t say it’ll be all right on the night.”
“I wasn’t going to,” said Jimmy. “I was going to say it’ll be all right after the night. People will soon forget how badly the thing went.”
“You’re a nice, comforting sort of man, aren’t you?” said Charteris.
“Why worry?” said Jimmy. “If you go on like this, it’ll be Westminster Abbey for you in your prime. You’ll be getting brain fever.”
Jimmy himself was one of the few who were feeling reasonably cheerful. He was deriving a keen amusement at present from the manoeuvres of Mr. Samuel Galer, of New York. This lynx-eyed man, having been instructed by Mr. McEachern to watch Jimmy, was doing so with a thoroughness which would have aroused the suspicions of a babe. If Jimmy went to the billiard-room after dinner, Mr. Galer was there to keep him company. If, during the course of the day, he had occasion to fetch a handkerchief or a cigarette-case from his bedroom, he was sure, on emerging, to stumble upon Mr. Galer in the corridor. The employees of Dodson’s Private Inquiry Agency believed in earning their salaries.
Occasionally, after these encounters, Jimmy would come upon Sir Thomas Blunt’s valet, the other man in whom Spike’s trained eye had discerned the distinguishing marks of the sleuth. He was usually somewhere round the corner at these moments, and when collided with apologised with great politeness. Jimmy decided that he must have come under suspicion in this case vicariously, through Spike. Spike, in the servants’ hall, would, of course, stand out conspicuously enough to catch the eye of a detective on the look out for sin among the servants; and he himself, as Spike’s employer, had been marked down as a possible confederate.
It tickled him to think that both these giant brains should be so greatly exercised on his account.
He had been watching Molly closely during these days. So far no announcement of the engagement had been made. It struck him that possibly it was being reserved for public mention on the night of the theatricals. The whole county would be at the castle then. There could be no more fitting moment. He sounded Lord Dreever, and the latter said moodily that he was probably right.
“There’s going to be a dance of sorts after the show,” he said, “and it’ll be done then, I suppose. No getting out of it after that—it’ll be all over the county. Trust my uncle for that! He’ll get on a table and shout it, shouldn’t wonder, and it’ll be in the Morning Post next day and Katie’ll see it. Only two days more! Oh, Lord!”
Jimmy deduced that Katie was the Savoy girl, concerning whom his lordship had vouchsafed no particulars save that she was a ripper and hadn’t a penny.