"Well?" said Myra eagerly, as I gave her back the letter.
In deep thought I buttered a piece of toast.
"We could stop Thomas," I said. "We might ring up the Admiralty and ask
them to give him something to do this evening. I don't know about Archie.
Is he----"
"Oh, what do you think it is? Aren't you excited?" She sighed and added,
"Of course I know what Samuel _is_."
"Yes. Probably he wants us all to go to the Wonder Zoo together ... or he's
discovered a new way of putting, or---- I say, I didn't know Archie and
Dahlia were in town."
"They aren't. But I expect Samuel telegraphed to them to meet him under the
clock at Charing Cross, disguised, when they would hear of something to
their advantage. Oh, I wonder what it is. It _must_ be something real this
time."
Since the day when Simpson woke me up at six o'clock in the morning to show
me his stance-for-a-full-wooden-club shot I have distrusted his
enthusiasms; but Myra loves him as a mother; and I--I couldn't do without
him; and when a man like that invites a whole crowd of people to come to
your flat just about the time when you are wondering what has happened to
the sardines on toast, and why doesn't she bring them in--well, it isn't
polite to put the chain on the door and explain through the letter-box that
you have gone away for a week.
"We'd better have dinner a bit earlier to be on the safe side," I said, as
Myra gave me a parting brush down in the hall. "If any further developments
occur in the course of the day ring me up at the office. By the way,
Simpson doesn't seem to have invited Peter. I wonder why not. He's nearly
two, and he ought to be in it. Myra, I'm sure I'm tidy now."
"Pipe, tobacco, matches, keys, money?"
"Everything," I said. "Bless you. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," said Myra lingeringly. "What do you think he meant by 'as time
is so short'?"
"I don't know. At least," I added, looking at my watch, "I do know. I shall
be horribly late. Good-bye."
I fled down the stairs into the street, waved to Myra at the window ... and
then came cautiously up again for my pipe. Life is very difficult on the
mornings when you are in a hurry.
At dinner that night Myra could hardly eat for excitement.
"You'll be sorry afterwards," I warned her, "when it turns out to be
nothing more than that he has had his hair cut."
"But even if it is I don't see why I shouldn't be excited at seeing my only
brother again--not to mention sister-in-law."
"You only want to see them so that you can talk about Peter."
"Oh, Fatty, darling"--(I am really quite thin)--"oh, Fatty," cried
Myra--("lean and slender" would perhaps describe it better)--cried Myra,
clasping her hands together--(in fact the very last person you could call
stout)--"I haven't seen the darling for ages! But I shall see Samuel," she
added hopefully, "and he's almost as young." ("Svelte"--that's the word for
me.)
"Then let's move," I said. "They'll be here directly."
Archie and Dahlia came first. We besieged them with questions as soon as
they appeared.
"Haven't an idea," said Archie. "I wanted to bring a revolver in case it
was anything really desperate, but Dahlia wouldn't let me."
"It would have been useful too," I said, "if it turned out to be something
merely futile."
"You're not going to hurt my Samuel, however futile it is," said Myra.
"Dahlia, how's Peter, and will you have some coffee?"
"Peter's lovely. You've had coffee, haven't you, Archie?"
"Better have some more," I suggested, "in case Simpson is merely soporific.
We anticipate a slumbering audience, and Samuel explaining a new kind of
googlie he's invented."
Entered Thomas lazily.
"Hallo," he said in his slow voice, "What's it all about?"
"It's a raid on the Begum's palace," explained Archie rapidly. "Dahlia
decoys the Chief Mucilage; you, Thomas, drive the submarine; Myra has
charge of the clockwork mouse, and we others hang about and sing. To say
more at this stage would be to bring about a European conflict."
"Coffee, Thomas?" said Myra.
"I bet he's having us on," said Thomas gloomily, as he stirred his coffee.
There was a hurricane in the hall. Chairs were swept over; coats and hats
fell to the ground; a high voice offered continuous apologies--and Simpson
came in.
"Hallo, Myra!" he said eagerly. "Hallo, old chap! Hallo, Dahlia! Hallo,
Archie! Hallo, Thomas, old boy!" He fixed his spectacles firmly on his nose
and beamed round the room.
"You haven't said 'Hallo!' to the cook," Archie pointed out.
"We're all here--thanking you very much for inviting us," I said. "Have a
cigar--if you've brought any with you."
Fortunately he had brought several with him.
"Now then, I'll give any of you three guesses what it's all about."
"No, you don't. We're all waiting, and you can begin your apology right
away."
Simpson took a deep breath and began.
"I've been lent a villa," he said.
There was a moment's silence ... and then Archie got up.
"Good-bye," he said to Myra, holding out his hand. "Thanks for a very jolly
evening. Come along, Dahlia."
"But I say, old chap," protested Simpson.
"I'm sorry, Simpson, but the fact that you're moving from the Temple to
Cricklewood, or wherever it is, and that somebody else is paying the thirty
pounds a year, is jolly interesting, but it wasn't good enough to drag us
up from the country to tell us about it. You could have written. However,
thank you for the cigar."
"My dear fellow, it isn't Cricklewood. It's the Riviera!"
Archie sat down again.
"Samuel!" cried Myra. "How she must love you!"
"I should never lend Simpson a villa of mine," I said. "He'd only lose it."
"They're some very old friends who live there, and they're going away for a
month, and the servants are staying on, and they suggested that if I was
going abroad again this year----"
"How did the servants know you'd been abroad last year?" asked Archie.
"Don't interrupt, dear," said Dahlia. "I see what he means. How very jolly
for you, Samuel."
"For all of us, Dahlia!" "You aren't suggesting we shall all crowd in?"
growled Thomas.
"Of course, my dear old chap! I told them, and they're delighted. We can
share housekeeping expenses, and it will be as cheap as anything."
"But to go into a stranger's house," said Dahlia anxiously.
"It's _my_ house, Dahlia, for the time. I invite you!" He threw out his
hands in a large gesture of welcome and knocked his coffee-cup on to the
carpet; begged Myra's pardon several times; and then sat down again and
wiped his spectacles vigorously.
Archie looked doubtfully at Thomas.
"Duty, Thomas, duty," he said, thumping his chest. "You can't desert the
Navy at this moment of crisis."
"Might," said Thomas, puffing at his pipe.
Archie looked at me. I looked hopefully at Myra.
"Oh-h-h!" said Myra, entranced.
Archie looked at Dahlia. Dahlia frowned.
"It isn't till February," said Simpson eagerly.
"It's very kind of you, Samuel," said Dahlia, "but I don't think----"
Archie nodded to Simpson.
"You leave this to me," he said confidentially. "We're going."