Molly laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "You bet I should," she said crisply. "One can't be six years in musical comedy without learning how to treat rotters."
CHAPTER XVI
AN ARTISTIC FORGERY
Spalding drew back the curtains with that slightly sacerdotal gravity that distinguished all his professional actions, and then turned towards Tony.
"Mr. Oliver asked me to inform you, sir, that he will not be having breakfast with you. He has to leave the house early on business."
Tony arranged himself more comfortably amongst the pillows. "In that case, Spalding," he said, "I think I shall break my good resolutions, and have a cup of tea up here. I can't face the Times and a poached egg single-handed."
"Very good, sir," observed Spalding, and retiring deftly to the lower regions, he returned in a few minutes with a tray containing the desired refreshment, a couple of letters, and a copy of the Sportsman.
Tony took a sip of the tea, lighted himself a cigarette from the big silver box beside his bed, and then proceeded to investigate his correspondence.
The first letter was of a philanthropic character. It was from a gentleman named Douglas Gordon, apparently of Scottish extraction, offering to lend him any sum from £1,000 to £50,000 on his note of hand alone. Laying it one side he picked up the other, which was addressed in a solid, straightforward handwriting that he recognized immediately as that of his skipper—Captain Simmons of the Betty. Having as yet had no communication from the yacht, except for a wire in reply to his, Tony opened it with some interest.
It ran as follows: