That was the only ripple which Montague’s work produced upon the surface of the pool; but there was a great commotion among the fish at the bottom, about which he was soon to learn.
That evening, while he was hard at work in his study, he received a telephone call from his brother. “I’m coming round to see you,” said Oliver. “Wait for me.”
“All right,” said the other, and added, “I thought you were dining at the Wallings’.”
“I’m there now,” was the answer. “I’m leaving.”
“What is the matter?” Montague asked.
“There’s hell to pay,” was the reply—and then silence.
When Oliver appeared, a few minutes later, he did not even stop to set down his hat, but exclaimed, “Allan, what in heaven’s name have you been doing?”
“What do you mean?” asked the other.
“Why, that suit!”
“What about it?”