Bailey eyed him glassily, then found speech.
“Go to hell!” he shouted. He strode to the door and shot into the street, a seething volcano.
George, for his part, was startled, but polite.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Very good, sir,” and withdrew.
Kirk, having reached the top of the stairs, had to check the wild rush he was making for the bathroom in order not to collide with Steve, whom he found waiting for him with outstretched hand and sympathetic excitement writ large upon his face.
“Excuse me, squire,” said Steve, “I’ve been playing the part of Rubberneck Rupert in that little drama you’ve just been starring in. I just couldn’t help listening. Say, this mitt’s for you. Shake it! So you’re going to marry Bailey’s sister, Ruth, are you? You’re the lucky guy. She’s a queen!”
“Do you know her, Steve?”
“Do I know her! Didn’t I tell you I was the tame physical instructor in that palace? I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve thrown the medicine-ball at her. Why, I’m the guy that gave her that figure of hers. She don’t come to me regular, like Bailey and the old man, but do I know her? I should say I did know her.”
Kirk shook his hand.
“You’re all right, Steve!” he said huskily, and vanished into the bathroom. A sound as of a tropical deluge came from within.