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Bundercombe was thoughtful, I am convinced that at that moment the germs of certain ideas which bore fruit a little later on were born in his mind. I saw him blink several times as he gazed up at the ceiling. I saw a faint smile gradually expand over his face. A premonition of trouble, even at that moment, forced itself on me.
I grant you he's going to promise a lot of very interesting things, but that's been going on just a little too long. The people have had enough of that sort of thing. I think you'll find they'll put more trust in the little we can promise than in that rigmarole of Harrison's." Mr. Bundercombe shook his head doubtfully. "Well," he sighed, "I'm only on the outside edge of this thing yet.
"What should you like to drink, Mrs. Bundercombe?" I asked in attempted unconcern. Mrs. Bundercombe adjusted her spectacles severely and transferred her regard to me. I felt somehow as though I were back at school and had been discovered in some ignominious escapade. "You are aware, Paul," she replied, "that I drink nothing save a glass of hot water after my meal.
"I suppose we had better finish the affair while we are about it. One of you had better come with me." Captain Bannister promptly volunteered. He and I and Mr. Bundercombe descended the stairs and entered the car. We pulled up in a few minutes at the door of Mr. Bundercombe's bank. "Will you come in with me?" Mr. Bundercombe invited, turning to Captain Bannister.
Eve sighed. "I wish I knew what dad was up to!" she murmured. At that moment we met him. He came strolling along, his silk hat a little on the back of his head, a cigar in his mouth, his hands grasping his cane behind his back. "Bundercombe or Parker?" I inquired as we came to a standstill on the pavement. He grinned. "Nasty business, that!" he remarked cheerfully.
"What has Mr. Bundercombe been up to now?" I asked nervously. "Nothing serious at any rate, that I know of," Mr. Cullen assured me. "For the last fortnight ever since Mrs. Bundercombe's arrival, in fact Mr. Bundercombe has somehow or other managed to keep away from all his old associates and out of any sort of mischief.
Bundercombe and his wife we, alas! never knew. She turned her left shoulder pointedly toward the young woman, whom she had designated as a hussy, and talked steadily for about a minute and a half at Mr. Bundercombe. The history of what followed was reflected in that gentleman's expressive face. He appeared to listen, at first in amazement, afterward in annoyance, and finally in downright anger.
"Between you and me," he went on "don't give it away outside this room, you know but there have been rumors going about concerning an American and his pretty daughter over here regular wrong 'uns! They've been up to all sorts of tricks and only kept out of prison by a fluke." "You're not associating these people, whoever they may be, with Mr. and Miss Bundercombe?" I asked sternly.
I propose that we celebrate to-night, unless," he added, with a sudden gloom, "you two want to go off and dine somewhere alone." "Not likely!" I assured him quickly. "Daddy!" Eve exclaimed reproachfully. Mr. Bundercombe cheered up. "Then, if you're both agreeable," he proposed, "let us go and pay Luigi a visit. I have rather a fancy to show him a reestablished Mr. Bundercombe.
She walked across to the table at which Mr. Bundercombe was seated. Eve and I both turned in our places to watch. "Poor daddy!" Eve murmured under her breath. "Why couldn't he have chosen a smaller restaurant. He is going to catch it now!" "I think I'll back your father," I observed. "He is quite at his best this morning." The exact words that passed between Mr.
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