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"Perhaps, when he can't find a woman. As a power conductor she is the only, original, copper wire!" The curiosity which James Macauley had freely expressed as to the probable degree of friendship between Leaver and Amy Mathewson, developed by months of close association, was, with him and with others, not unnatural.
Perhaps the music had made them all more or less analytic, for in an interval James Macauley, comfortably ensconced in a great winged chair for which he was accustomed to steer upon entering this room, where he was nearly as much at home as within his own walls, remarked, "What is there about music like that that sets you to thinking everybody in sight is about the best ever?"
Her shoulder pressed close against that of Miss Mathewson, she left so large a space for the newcomer. After the first exchange of small talk, it was a silent drive. Macauley was making haste to obey the summons he had received, and the rush of air past those in the car with him was not conducive to frequent speech.
There is no train or trolley service out from the city to-night, and there will not be until the wind and drifting stops. My train was ten hours late. I should have been here this morning. Meanwhile, I will stay just where you want me. You and Mrs. Macauley can settle that. I wish for your sake Mrs. Burns were here and Red." "They are not here? Then how did you come to " "Come home before them?
And he rushed away. "It's my private opinion," growled Macauley, beginning sulkily to lay the fire, "that that fellow is off his head. He always did seem a trifle cracked, and to-night he's certainly dippy. What's he going to do with a fire, at 11 P.M., on a May evening, I'd like to know?" "Whatever it is, it will be refreshing."
He might as well go to Siberia while's he's about it." With a warrant in his pocket Inspector Chippenfield, accompanied by Rolfe, set out for Macauley Mansions, Westminster.
"You two are always bragging up the married life," he remarked as the Green Imp gathered speed, "but it strikes me you're pretty eager to get away from the glories of your wives' entertaining." "It's one curious thing," admitted Macauley thoughtfully, "that no matter how harmonious a couple may be they're bound to differ on what does and does not constitute entertainment."
Lambert turned his commanding eyes upon the culprit, demanding that not one iota of that proposition be left out of his recital. Brought to bay, Macauley had nothing to do, but confess his crime and the proposition made Mr. Lambert, but his nerve had broken loose and he was a whining, puny puppy. "Now, Mr. Lambert," said Major Anthony, "I am much obliged to you and you can go to your quarters."
Not going to get to bed?" "Don't know. I might snatch a nap now if you'd quit talking." Macauley closed his mouth. Presently he got up and stole out of the room. He was back again in a trice, a flask in one hand, a soda siphon in the other, and a small glass balanced on his thumb.
That gives the touch of colour she needs. The rose would overdo it and wouldn't match, besides." Martha spoke with scorn. "Yes, a rose would be maudlin, Red; can't you see it?" James Macauley gave his opinion with a wink at his friend. "With the necklace your wife is a dream. With a rose added she'd be a waking up! Trust 'em, that's my advice.
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