CHAPTER XVII
TORCHY GETS A THROUGH WIRE
First off, when I pipes the party in the pale green lid and the fuzzy English topcoat, I thought it was some stray from the House of Lords; but as it drifts nearer to the brass rail and I gets a glimpse of the mild blue eyes behind the thick, shell-rimmed glasses, I discovers that it's only Son-in-law Ferdy; you know, hubby to Marjorie Ellins that was.
"Wat ho!" says I. "Just in from Lunnon?"
"Why, no," says Ferdy, gawpin' foolish. "Whatever made you think that?"
"Then it's a disguise, is it?" says I, eyin' the costume critical.
"Oh, bother!" says Ferdy peevish. "I told Marjorie I should be stared at. And I just despise being conspicuous, you know! Where's Robert?"
"Mr. Robert ain't due back for an hour yet," says I. "You could catch him at the club, I expect."
"No, no," protests Ferdy hasty. "I—I wouldn't go to the club looking like this. I—I couldn't stand the chaff I'd get from the fellows. I'll wait."