CHAPTER II
THE MORALS OF MOLLY
It was exactly eleven o'clock when Tony woke up. He looked at his watch, yawned, stretched himself, ran his fingers through his hair, and then reaching out his hand pressed the electric bell beside his bed. After a short pause it was answered by a middle-aged, clean-shaven man, with a face like a tired sphinx, who entered the room carrying a cup of tea upon a tray. Tony sat up and blinked at him.
"Good-morning, Spalding," he observed.
"Good-morning, Sir Antony," returned the man; "I trust that you slept well, sir?"
"Very well, thank you," replied Tony. "What time did I get home?"
"I fancy it was a little after four, sir."
Tony took a long drink out of the tea-cup, and then put it down again. "I am curiously thirsty this morning, Spalding," he said. "Was I quite sober when I came back?"
The man hesitated. "I should describe you as being so, sir," he replied.
"Thank you, Spalding," said Tony gratefully.
Crossing the room the valet drew up the blinds, and admitted a cheerful stream of sunshine.