* * * * *
'Bob,' said the girl, as the first threatening mutters from the
orchestra heralded an imminent storm of melody, 'when that boy comes
tomorrow, what are going to do?'
'Call up the police.'
'No, but you must do something. We shouldn't have been here if it
hadn't been for him.'
'That's true!' He pondered. 'I've got it; I'll get him a job with
Raikes and Courtenay.'
'Why Raikes and Courtenay?'
'Because I have a pull with them. But principally,' said Mr Ferguson,
with a devilish grin, 'because they live in Edinburgh, which, as you
are doubtless aware, is a long, long way from London.'
He bent across the table.
'Isn't this like old times?' he said. 'Do you remember the first time I
ever ki--'
Just then the orchestra broke out.
THE GOOD ANGEL
Any man under thirty years of age who tells you he is not afraid of an
English butler lies. He may not show his fear. Outwardly he may be
brave--aggressive even, perhaps to the extent of calling the great man
'Here!' or 'Hi!' But, in his heart, when he meets that, cold, blue,
introspective eye, he quakes.
The effect that Keggs, the butler at the Keiths', had on Martin
Rossiter was to make him feel as if he had been caught laughing in a
cathedral. He fought against the feeling.
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