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About four years after, this Alice LeMoyne dies, an' on her deathbed she confesses that she is the wife of Richard Cleighton an' helped to put up the job on James to get him out of the way, as the heir apparent didn't look like a long-liver, an' she thought she would like to be an Erless, with a chance of being a Duchess even."
"The thing has got to be done right," returned Lemoyne. "Feet are about the first thing they notice." At the actual performance Lemoyne's feet were noticed, certainly; though perhaps not more than his head. His wig, as is usually the case with dark people, was of a sunny blond hue.
"You will be welcome," replied Randolph quietly. He would have preferred a single assurance to a double one. Meanwhile Cope and Lemoyne refined daily on the details of their new menage and applied themselves with new single-mindedness to their respective interests.
Well, he had called; he had done the just and expected thing; he had held his face through it all; but he was tired after a night of much thought and little sleep. Possibly he might not have to call again for a full week. If 'phone messages or letters came, he would take them as best he could. Nor was Lemoyne very alert. He was less prompt than usual in gaining his early morning loquacity.
This effort not only propelled Lemoyne against some scenery and left him, despite the voluminous blond wig, with a bruise on his forehead; it immediately pushed him out of his part, and it ended by pushing him out of the organization and even out of the University. "Keep off, will you!" said the young elegant crudely. Lemoyne's "atmosphere" dissipated suddenly. His art-structure collapsed.
He felt no promptings to lend Lemoyne a hand; yet Cope himself, even if out of reach, might at least remain an object of continuing kindness. "But if you are to interest yourself in some new undertaking by 'The Grayfriars," he said to Lemoyne, "will you have much time and attention to give to office-work?" "Oh, I have time," replied Lemoyne jauntily, "and not many studies.
Lemoyne, at the first word of invitation, had seated himself at the instrument a lesser than the "grand" downstairs, but not unworthy; then, with but a measure or so of prelude, the two voices had begun to ring out in the old nautical ballad.
He had to remind himself that they were the people who had burned Eric Blount and Hendrik Lemoyne alive; that two of the three bombs that had contributed to that column of boiling smoke had been made in Keegark, by Keegarkans, and that, with a few casual factors altered, he was seeing what would have happened to Konkrook.
She thought suddenly of Arthur Lemoyne; he, by comparison, seemed like a dark, yielding plum-pudding. On the way into town Medora had had Hortense sit in front with Peter. This arrangement had enabled her to lay her hand more than once on Cope's, and to tell him again that he had been rather badly treated, and that Amy, when you came to it, was a poor slight child who scarcely knew her own mind.
It was, so much easier that it became but an elegant literary exercise. A few touches of nobility, a few more of elegiac regret, and it was ready at nine that night for the letter-box. Cope dropped it in with an iron clang and walked back to his quarters a free man. A few days later Lemoyne, working for his new play, met Amy Leffingwell in the music-alcove of the University library.
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