“Perhaps it would be enough,” urged Masters, “if, on the actual day of our attempt, the ladies of our party undertook not to go into the rooms?”
“Perhaps it would,” Brentin replied, “but for myself I should prefer they remained altogether in England, offering up a series of succinct and heartfelt prayers for our safe return.”
Bob Hines gave a snort of laughter, whereupon Brentin fixed him inquiringly.
“Englishwomen have prayed for the safe return of heroes before now, Mr. Hines.”
“I am aware of it.”
“Then why gurgle at the back of your throat?”
“I have a certain irrepressible sense of humor.”
“That is remarkable for an Englishman!”
Whether Mr. Brentin were deliberately bent on rubbing us all up the wrong way, I don’t know, but he was most certainly doing it, so I thought it judicious to interpose. It was just at that moment Mr. Bailey Thompson stepped into the room.