“Hide me, quickly,” Jules whispered, “do you hear. I will give you money. Quick, fool, don’t gape at me.”
For the second time that evening Anthony Trent smothered his anger and smiled when rage was in his heart. And he did so for the second time not because he was conscious of fear but because he saw himself suitably rewarded for his efforts. He felt a note thrust into his hand but this was not the reward he looked for. He was arranging the piano débris around the prostrate Jules when there was a knock on the door and Carr Faulkner entered.
The millionaire’s eye fell first of all upon the coat over the chair.
“Who’s is this?” he demanded.
The pause was hardly perceptible before she answered.
“I suppose it belongs to the piano man.”
Faulkner looked across at the instrument and beheld the busy Trent taking what else was possible from the Stoneman. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men could not put that instrument together again easily. Trent went about his business with quiet persistence.
Carr Faulkner’s voice was very courteous and kind as he addressed the tuner.
“I’m afraid I must ask you to wait outside in the hall for a few minutes until I have had a little private talk with my wife.”
“Is that necessary,” she said quickly. “I’m just going to dress for dinner. We have people coming, remember.”