And with this somewhat staggering announcement she opened the door and disappeared from view.
Whatever effect her remark may have had upon Tony, he appeared to have recovered from it fairly successfully by the time that she returned. At all events she found him reclining in the easy-chair, enveloped in cigarette smoke, and looking precisely as comfortable and unruffled as when she had left him.
"Was your parting shot serious, Molly?" he asked in that pleasantly serene voice of his.
As he spoke he got up from the chair, and Molly, who was a little out of breath, dropped into the vacant seat.
"It was," she said; "dead, absolute serious. If you want Peter's letter you'll have to take me with you to Livadia." She paused and looked up at him. "Say yes, Tony," she added almost fiercely. "Don't you see that I mean it."
Tony who was gazing down at her with a sort of dispassionate admiration, nodded his head.
"I see you mean it all right, Molly," he said quietly; "but it's a bit of a bomb-shell you know. This won't be exactly a healthy trip if we happen to mess things up."
Molly leaned across to the dressing-table and helped herself to a cigarette.
"Tony dear," she observed. "I know I'm a musical comedy actress, but it doesn't necessarily follow that I'm a complete idiot. I understand perfectly that we're taking on about as risky and hopeless a job as any one could possibly tackle. If Da Freitas finds out I should think the odds are about twenty to one that neither of us will ever come back." She struck a match and lighted her cigarette. "Now are you satisfied?" she inquired.
"Well, you seem to have a fairly sound grip of the situation," admitted Tony. "Still that doesn't make it any the less of a large order." He paused. "Good Lord, Molly, why it's madness—stark staring madness!"