"Do as you like about it," he said, not without a touch of irritation in his voice. "When my mother and you lay your heads together and conspire against me, I know that I may as well give in at once. Mind you, I don't think this fellow is worth half the trouble that you two women are taking about him."
"Blind--blind as ever!" muttered Olive to herself as she stood at the window and watched Kelvin hurrying down the street in the direction of the station. "A woman of my own age and any brains at all would detect ray motive at once, but a man can rarely see beyond his nose."
[CHAPTER VI.]
"THAT'S THE MAN!"
As already explained, Mr. Piper had a tiny glass-fronted office, or rather den, all to himself, at the far end of the passage which led from the main entrance to Matthew Kelvin's premises. In the wall that divided the sanctum of Mr. Piper from that of his employer, was a small window of ground glass, which had originally been intended as a means of communication between one office and the other. Of late years, however, it had never been so used, Mr. Kelvin having adopted the modern invention of India-rubber tubes as the readiest and most convenient method of making known his wishes either to Mr. Piper or to the clerks in the general office. Since the little window had fallen into disuse, a thick green curtain had been hung across it, in order that the privacy of Kelvin's office might be still further secured; but, as it so happened, the object in view came at last, to be defeated through this very precaution.
One cold morning, Mr. Piper, while sparring at an imaginary opponent in order to keep up the circulation of his system, sent his elbow incautiously through one of the panes of the little window. There was no great harm done: a shilling or two would pay for the damage; but, for all that, Pod thought it best not to let Mr. Kelvin know of the accident. He knew that Kelvin was going out of town in the course of a few days, and he would take that opportunity of having the window mended at his own expense. Meanwhile, the curtain would effectually hide what had happened from his employer's notice.
In thus making his calculations, there was, however, one point which, to give Pod his due, had altogether escaped his notice. So long as the broken window remained unmended, the privacy of Kelvin's office was altogether gone. Pod had only to put his ear to the fractured pane in order to hear every word that was spoken in the other room. There was nothing but the curtain between him and the speakers. Pod, as a rule, would not have thought it worth his while to listen--would not have condescended to listen; but happening one day accidentally to overhear a few words of a certain conversation, he was induced to listen more attentively, and the result was that he quietly reached his pencil and notebook and took down the whole of the conversation in shorthand.
"If I don't spoil their little game, my name's not Pod Piper!" he said to himself with an air of energy as he shut up his notebook. "The pair of cowardly vipers!"
The conversation stenographed by Mr. Piper, and denounced by him in such emphatic terms, was that which took place between Olive Deane and Gerald Warburton on the forenoon of the day following the visit of the latter to Kelvin's house. When Gerald called at eleven o'clock he was told that the lawyer had been suddenly summoned away, but that Miss Deane was desirous of speaking to him. Inwardly wondering what Miss Deane could have to say to him, he sat down, but was not kept long waiting. Pod went to tell her that Mr. Pomeroy was there, and Olive came at once.
"My cousin has been called from home quite unexpectedly," she said; "and he asked me to see you in his stead."