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For a moment he stood biting his lip in a nervous effort to control himself, then he joined feebly in the laughter the other two men had raised against him. A moment later he pulled out his watch, and turning to McNally said: "Keep your eye on Weeks, will you? I'm going to Truesdale on the eleven-thirty to find Black. Good-by."
Being thus minded, Truesdale received but grudgingly the tenders of his brother Roger to assist in the caretaking. He admitted, however, that it would be less embarrassing to confer with one person than a dozen, and that if the whole connection were to be represented by a single spokesman, then Roger was the one that he preferred.
"I want you to. Anyway," smiling, "father is in Chicago." Harvey smiled too. "I'll send the trap for you, and we'll drive at ten, say. I suppose you are at the hotel." "Yes," said Harvey. "Good night." Mr. Porter's summer home was located on the river bank, something less than a mile from the Truesdale Hotel. The walk was somewhat lonely, and it gave Harvey time to think.
Belden himself sat there attended, with the sort of deferential familiarity that suggests the confidential clerk, by the Swiss, the Alsacian, or whatever else, who on a previous occasion had moved the curiosity of Bingham. This man caught sight of Truesdale as he passed, and gave him an instant glance of recognition.
"Do you return to Truesdale to-day?" Harvey asked. "No. Not until day after to-morrow. We go to the South Side to dinner, father and I. Father told me to meet him here at half-past three." Harvey drew out his watch. "It is after four now." "Yes, I'm a little worried. Father is usually very prompt. He had to see some men about the railroad, but he said it wouldn't take him long.
"And I know where ever so many of the society people live," Bertie went on in a low tone, which implored him not to repeat, and above all not to laugh. "I saw a book once with all their addresses, and I marked the places on the map." Truesdale did smile here crumbling, the while, a biscuit on the corner of the table.
Nor was there any relaxation because the garrison happened to be on a mere peace footing; it made little difference that both Rosamund and Truesdale were spending the better part of the summer in Wisconsin.
Truesdale, when the recital was made to him in his brother's office, showed a scant appreciation of the sacrifice, but listened interestedly enough to the detailed report of Roger's endeavor. "So you have found Monsieur Y, after all? And do you hold him fast?" Roger contemptuously ignored this revival of his brother's flippant Gallic formula.
"Truesdale, you know; he's awfully good to me." She might have found it difficult to cite any definite example of Truesdale's goodness; perhaps she meant merely that he never snubbed her, never hectored her. "Better yet. Fencing by all means." Jane, moreover, always accompanied Mrs. Bates to the milliner's and to the dress-maker's.
"'Ah, perche non posso odiarti!" hummed Truesdale in unison with the organ, as the performer, after an intricate cadenza, returned to the original theme. "That's the only recognizable thing I've heard these fellows play since I came over. I wonder who puts together all the shocking stuff they are loaded up with nowadays."
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