Round the edge of the door came inquiringly the
fair head of Lord Wisbeach.
"Oh!" said his lordship, sighting Jimmy.
The head withdrew itself.
"Come here!" shouted Jimmy.
The head appeared again.
"Talking to me?"
"Yes, I was talking to you."
Lord Wisbeach followed his superstructure into the room. He was
outwardly all that was bland and unperturbed, but there was a
wary look in the eye that cocked itself at Jimmy, and he did not
move far from the door. His fingers rested easily on the handle
behind him. He did not think it probable that Jimmy could have
heard of his visit to Mrs. Pett, but there had been something
menacing in the latter's voice, and he believed in safety first.
"They told me Miss Chester was here," he said by way of relaxing
any possible strain there might be in the situation.
"And what the devil do you want with Miss Chester, you slimy,
crawling second-story-worker, you damned, oily yegg?" enquired
Jimmy.
The sunniest optimist could not have deluded himself into the
belief that the words were spoken in a friendly and genial
spirit. Lord Wisbeach's fingers tightened on the door-handle, and
he grew a little flushed about the cheek-bones.
"What's all this about?" he said.
"You infernal crook!"
Lord Wisbeach looked anxious.
"Don't shout like that! Are you crazy? Do you want people to
hear?"
Jimmy drew a deep breath.
"I shall have to get further away from you," he said more
quietly.
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