“By Heavens, I don’t believe it!” he blurted out, his gaze direct upon the Unspeakable Perk.
“What don’t you believe?”
“That rotten club gossip.”
“About me?”
“Yes,” said Carroll, reddening.
The hermit pushed his glasses down, settled into place the white gloves, with their soothing contents of emollient greases, and got to his feet.
“We’d best be moving. I’ve got much to do,” he said.
“Not yet,” retorted Carroll. “Perkins, is there a woman up there on the mountains with you?”
“That is purely my own business.”
“You told Miss Brewster there wasn’t. If you tell me—”