“If it does I knock it on the head with a spade.”
Mr. Atkinson Brown laughed loudly again. He seemed to like this man Hargreaves.
“Good epigram! By Jove, I must remember that!”
Herbert was on tenter-hooks when the conversation languished a little.
“Won’t you sing a song, Mrs. Atkinson Brown? I am sure my friend, Mr. Hargreaves, will appreciate your voice.”
“Oh, rather!” said Hargreaves. “Though I don’t pretend to understand a note of music.” Mrs. Atkinson Brown shook her head:
“I couldn’t think of singing before our hostess appears.”
The lady’s husband seemed at last to have caught the spirit of her suspicion. He spoke in a hoarse whisper to his wife:
“Where the devil is the woman?”
Herbert Heywood realized that he was on the edge of a precipice. Not much longer could he hold on to this intolerable situation. He tried to speak cheerfully, but there was anguish in his voice when he said: