Driving between bare fields, Prince said: “Don’t worry.”
“If a woman loses an eye or has a toothache it is quite intelligible,” I resented. “But if she collapses from nerves, or stares nothingness in the face, men tell her not to worry. I shall write to Cary Penwick tomorrow, and hand the Laughing Duchess over to him. He may sell it for what he can get.”
Prince flicked the colt to a trot, and said: “Better go slow. I’ve heard some queer things about collectors.”
“Things like old Mrs. Mace’s Romney, I suppose,” I said.
He jerked the reins abruptly: “What of it? There was an old Mrs. Mace in our home town who owned a Romney. Jove! I’d forgotten all about that. Why—” he stopped short, his brows drawn sharply into a frown. I related the story I had heard, but added that all collectors were not pickpockets. Prince, however, drove in thoughtful silence. “I wish you’d let me do more for you,” he began at the gate. But I ran up the path, laughing back at him.
At seven o’clock the unexpected again rang the telephone, and thought instantly visualized the voice as fat, florid and fed. The revolution was therefore complete when it said: “Cousin Enid, this is Cary Penwick. I hope you remember me. . . . Yes, my dear girl, twenty-five years! You would not recognize me.”
“Oh, but I should!” I cried, happily. “A dark-eyed boy with his hair in his eyes, and a brain set on adventure. . . . But your voice does not in the least sound like you. Do come out and let me see you.”
He assured me that such had been his intention, but an official banquet and a directors’ meeting intervened. Finally, it was decided that he should motor out after the banquet, and remain at Brookchase for the night. “Do not wait up for me. Your man can meet me. I shall be there by twelve,” he said.
Having recovered from the natural effects of hearing that there was no man, he added: “By the way, Enid, I seem to remember that your grandmother had some quaint old things. Were there not several paintings and a carving or two? Trifles probably, but I might help you do something with them.”
“Trifles! Why, Cary, surely you remember the Laughing Duchess? It has been the family treasure for generations, that and the Mercury. It is about these things that I want particularly to consult you,” I replied.