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I shall see Lord Pilgrimstone tomorrow, but probably that will be the end of it." Atley went away marveling at his coolness, trying to retrace the short steps of their conversation, and so to discern how far the Minister had gone with him, and where he had turned off upon a resolution of his own.
The Coalition scandal, the resignation of Ministers, the sending for Lord This and Mr. That, the certainty of a dissolution, provided matter enough. In all this Atley found nothing to wonder at. He had seen it all before. That which did cause him surprise was the calm the unnatural calm as it seemed to him which prevailed in the house in Carlton Terrace.
He took the cup and set it down absently. "Atley," he continued, speaking to the secretary, "you have not corrected the report of my speech at the Club, have you? No, I know you have had no time. Will you run your eye over it presently, and see if it is all right, and send it to the Times I do not think I need see it by eleven o'clock at latest.
Atley gave me in the hall at the last moment," explained the butler. "Ha! Thank you, Marcus. Then ask Mr. Atley if he will kindly come to me. No doubt he will be able to tell me what I want to know." The words were commonplace, but the speaker's anxiety was so evident that Marcus when he delivered the message which he did with all haste added a word or two of warning.
Stafford, Marcus?" she asked impatiently, as she stood with her hand on the door. "Good morning, Mr. Atley," she added, her eyes descending to him. "Where is my husband? The coffee is getting quite cold." "He has just sent to ask me to come to him," Atley answered. "Marcus tells me there is something in the Times which has annoyed him, Lady Betty; I will send him up as quickly as I can."
"Ah," she replied with a faint sigh. "Well, he has never spoken to me about it. And you think it had really something to do with his resignation, Mr. Atley?" "Most certainly," he said. He was not inclined to spare her this time. She nodded thoughtfully, and then with a quiet "Thank you," went out.
The statesman turned from the window, and walked to and fro, his agitation betrayed by his step. The third time he passed in front of his secretary who had riveted his eyes to the Times and appeared to be reading the money article he stopped. "If this be true mind I say if, Atley " he cried, jerkily, "what was my wife's motive? I am in the dark, blindfolded! Help me!
"Well," drawled the other, "which is the hand-box, old fellow?" "It has just been cleared. Here, give it me. The messengers is in the hall now." And Atley snatched the letter from his companion, the two going out into the hall together. Marcus, the butler, a couple of tall footmen, and the messenger were sorting letters at the table.
Scratchley?" he said without prelude, and in a tone which matched his gesture. The visitor bowed. He was a grave middle-aged man, who seemed oppressed and burdened by the load of cares and responsibilities which his smiling chief carried so jauntily. People said that he was the proper complement of Lord Pilgrimstone, as the more volatile Atley was of his leader. "And you are aware," continued Mr.
"You had better play the secretary for once, Lady Betty," said Atley, who was related to his chief. "You will then be able to satisfy your curiosity. Shall I resign pro tem?" She looked eagerly at her husband for the third part of a second looked for assent, perhaps. But she read no playfulness in his face, and her own fell. He was thinking about other things.
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