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Updated: June 13, 2025
She had arrived at the top just in time to see him turn down the passage into Sir Thomas's dressing-room. She could not think what his object might be. She knew that Sir Thomas was downstairs, so it could not be from the idea of a chat with him that Spennie was seeking the dressing-room.
This would be his only chance of a smoke for hours, and the billiard-room was the best place for it. He sat down, and lighted a cigarette, casting about the while for an innocuous topic of conversation. "Like the show?" he inquired. "Fine," said Mr. McEachern. "By the way " Spennie groaned inwardly.
The baited youth looked vainly for assistance to Jimmy. "But er aunt," said Spennie. "Really, I er I only just caught the train. Didn't I, Pitt?" "What? Oh, yes. Got in just as it was moving." "That was it. I really hadn't time to telegraph. Had I, Pitt?" "Not a minute." "And how was it you were so late?"
Don't you see that he would suspect you the moment he found they were gone, and then you'd get into trouble?" "Something in that," admitted his lordship. "Of course there is, Spennie, dear. I'm so glad you see! There they all are, safe again in the drawer. Now, we can go downstairs again, and " She stopped.
There were two ten-pound notes, and four of five pounds. He took a specimen of each variety, replaced the pocketbook, and crept out of the door. Then he walked rapidly down the corridor to his own room. Just as he reached it, he received a shock only less severe than the former one from the fact that this time no hand was placed on his shoulder. "Spennie!" cried a voice. He turned, to see Molly.
Quite an intellectual pallor began to appear on his normally pink cheeks. Saunders, silently sympathetic he hated Sir Thomas as an interloper, and entertained for his lordship, under whose father also he had served, a sort of paternal fondness was ever at his elbow with the magic bottle; and to Spennie, emptying and re-emptying his glass almost mechanically, wine, the healer, brought an idea.
Jimmy had dined with Spennie obviously a mere excuse for spying out the land; and the very next night the house had been burgled. Once more Mr. McEachern congratulated himself on his astuteness in engaging the detective from Wragge's Agency. With Jimmy above stairs and Spike Mullins below, that sleuthhound would have his hands full.
Here's my card. Blunt's my name. Spennie Blunt. Is your address on your card? I can't remember. Oh, by Jove, I've got it in my hand all the time." The gurgling laugh came into action again, freshened and strengthened by its rest. "Savoy Mansions, eh? I'll come round to-morrow. Thanks, frightfully, again old chap. I don't know what I should have done."
Spennie hesitated for an instant when he saw who was in the room. He was not over-anxious for a tete-a-tete with Molly's father just then. But, re-fleeting that, after all, he was not to blame for any disappointment that might be troubling the other, he switched on his grin again, and walked in. "Came in for a smoke," he explained, by way of opening the conversation. "Not dancing the next."
He did not count. But as a willful child, to be kept out of trouble, he had a claim on Molly. She spoke soothingly. "But, Lord Dreever, " she began. "Call me Spennie," he urged. "We're pals. You said so on stairs. Everybody calls me Spennie even Uncle Thomas. I'm going to pull his nose," he broke off suddenly, as one recollecting a forgotten appointment. "Spennie, then," said Molly.
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