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But, well, you see it would be premature to make any arrangements at present for having the picture painted on our yacht trip. 'I'm afraid it knocks that scheme on the head, said Lord Mountry mournfully. 'Not necessarily. 'Eh? 'I don't want to make plans yet, but it is possible that Ogden may be with us after all. Something may be arranged.
Why have I not seen him before? 'I met him in Paris in the fall. He has been out of London for a long time, looking after his father, who was ill. 'I see. 'He has been most kind, making arrangements about getting Ogden's portrait painted. But, bother Lord Mountry. How did we get sidetracked on to him? Tell me how you got Ogden away. Cynthia yawned.
Lord Mountry, you really must go. I know I'm rude. I don't know what I'm saying. But my boy is returning to me. The accumulated chivalry of generations of chivalrous ancestors acted like a spur on his lordship.
He was determined, but apologetic. A hired assassin of the Middle Ages, resolved to do his job loyally, yet conscious of causing inconvenience to his victim, might have looked the same. 'I am sorry, he said, 'but I must ask you to let me have the boy, Mrs Ford. Cynthia was herself again now. She raked the intruder with the cool stare which had so disconcerted Lord Mountry.
The look of impatience, which had left her face as the bell sounded, was back now. She suppressed it with an effort as her visitor entered. Lord Mountry was a blond, pink-faced, fair-moustached young man of about twenty-eight a thick-set, solemn young man. He winced as he caught sight of the picture, which fixed him with a stony eye immediately on his entry, and quickly looked away.
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