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"It is no end of good of you, Jack, to take this trouble," Andrew McLean remarked appreciatively, looking up from his scrutiny of the packet which his unexpected luncheon guest had pushed over to his plate. "Uncommon thoughtful. It's undoubtedly a twin to that locket, the portrait of the man's wife whatever his name was." "Delcassé," said Jack Ryder promptly.
"Oh, I think you're having a joke at my expense," she went on, "just to see how far you can lead me. I daresay Judge Rossmore deserves all he gets. Oh, yes I'm sure he deserves it." She rose and walked to the other side of the room to conceal her emotion. Ryder watched her curiously. "My dear young lady, how you take this matter to heart!"
We ain't never made to ride in the same go-cart Good-by. That-all is wot I should ha' said. But I didn't. I walked right plum into the sloo, like the mudhead that I was, an' got mired for fair jes as I might a-knowed I would. "Well, Ryder gives us a address over across the bay an' we fair hykes over there all along o' as crool a rain as ever killed crops.
"Give this to Mr. Ryder and tell him I cannot see him." "But Mr. Ryder said " insisted the girl. "Please deliver my message as I give it," commanded Shirley with authority. "I cannot see Mr. Ryder." The maid withdrew, but she had barely closed the door when it was opened again and Mrs. Ryder rushed in, without knocking.
He could talk upon any subject, and a hostess who could secure Stanley Ryder for one of her dinner-parties generally counted upon a success. "He doesn't go out much, these busy days," said Mrs. Billy. "But I told him about your friend." Now and then the conversation at the table would become general, and Montague noticed that it was always Ryder who led.
This timely warning had saved his family from perhaps an even greater scandal. He passed the letter in silence to Ryder, Sr. The financier was a man of few words when the situation called for prompt action. After he had read the letter through, there was an ominous silence. Then he rang a bell. The butler appeared. "Tell Mr. Bagley I want him." The man bowed and disappeared.
His grandmother made no objection, especially when he explained that he desired to be my best man. His real reason for going, however, was a lively hope that Katherine Bledsoe would accompany Jane Ryder. And then there was Whistling Jim to be taken into account. He made known his intention of accompanying me whether or no.
He turned from this gorge into a narrower ravine, which widened into a gully. Ryder continued for another half-mile to where three or four gigantic rocks thrown together formed a sort of natural stronghold with a rampart of white gums. Here he dismounted. Having rolled a boulder from a niche in the rocks, he drew out a rope, and with this tethered Wallaroo.
I'll write such a letter at once. It shall go to-night." He unhooked the telephone and asked Mr. Bagley to come up. A few seconds later the secretary entered the room. "Bagley," said Mr. Ryder, "I want you to write a letter for me to Miss Shirley Green, author of that book 'The American Octopus. We will address it care of her publishers, Littleton & Co.
Ryder made no more ado, but slipped out directly to prevent a meeting that might be attended with terrible consequences. She found her master in the kitchen, splashed with mud, drinking a horn of ale after his ride, and looking rather troubled and anxious; and, by the keen eye of her sex, she saw that the female servants were also in considerable anxiety.
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