He smiled. He hoped they would think it the quiet, resolute smile of martyrdom.
“But Mr.—er—Rook,” said Lucile Davega, “have you made all your plans?”
Here was another contingency for which he had not prepared. He slowly cleared his throat.
“I have,” he said gravely. Then, with a touch of mystery, added, “And I haven’t.” He hoped they would probe no further. But the Heterogeneous Club is composed of inveterate probers.
“Oh, won’t you tell us all about them?” As Lucile Davega said this she clasped her hands. Mr. Rook frowned ever so slightly. They acted as if he were planning a trip to Bermuda. He’d have to show them how deadly in earnest he was.
“If you insist,” he said, his mind groping wildly for plans. Unanimously, they insisted.
“Mind you it must go no further than this room,” he said. They all said that of course it wouldn’t.
“Well,” said Saunders Rook, speaking very deliberately, “of course, you see, since it is to be a protest, it must have a certain amount of publicity.”
Everyone nodded approvingly.
“So I thought,” he felt his way along, “that I should do it in some rather public place.”