Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/108

98 tips rather fastidiously held over his lips. That lisle-thread national bank was plainly something quite new to him.

The next moment, however, I looked up at him sharply. He had not been as embarrassed, I discovered, as I had imagined.

"Why did you ring that bell?" I demanded, for with all that outward air of flippancy I was inwardly as nervous as a cat in a strange garret. And I had seen him quietly reach out and touch a push-button.

"Because we haven't a great deal of time to waste, young lady," was his placid enough response.

But I had no chance to question him as to the cause of his hurry, for at that moment an interruption came. It came in the form of a footman, or perhaps it was a butler, who silently and quietly opened the door in front of me. Never, even on the stage, had I ever clapped eyes on anything like that figure. He reminded me of a human peacock. He was arrayed in a claret-colored coat and knee-breeches, with a silk waistcoat and white stockings and pumps. There were monogramed metal buttons all over the coat and vest, and next to a circus-float he was the most magnificent thing that ever moved through life.

But he seemed to take no joy in all that glory, for