the air of an adoring devotee before some sacred shrine.
"You are quite right, Chetwode," he declared, "quite right, but I
am always very careful not to let my wife know how I feel. You see,
the Count Sabatini is her only relative, and before our marriage
they were inseparable. He was an exile from Portugal and it seems to
me these foreigners hang on together more than we do. I am only too
glad for her to be with him as much as she chooses. It is just a
little unfortunate that his friends should sometimes be--well, a
trifle distasteful, but--one must put up with it. One must put up
with it, eh? After all, Rosario was a man very well spoken of. There
was no reason why he shouldn't have come to my house. Plenty of
other men in my position would have been glad to have entertained
him."
"Certainly, sir," agreed Arnold. "I believe he went a great deal
into society."
"And, no doubt," Mr. Weatherley continued, eagerly, "he had many
enemies. In the course of his commercial career, which I believe was
an eventful one, he would naturally make enemies.... By the bye,
Chetwode, speaking of blackmail--that blackmail rumor, eh? You don't
happen to have heard any particulars?"
"None at all, sir," replied Arnold. "I don't suppose anything is
really known. It seems a probable solution of the affair, though."
Mr. Weatherley nodded thoughtfully.
"It does," he admitted. "I can quite imagine any one trying it on
and Rosario defying him. Just the course which would commend itself
to such a man."
"The proper course, no doubt," Arnold remarked, "although it
scarcely turned out the best for poor Mr. Rosario."
Mr. Weatherley distinctly shivered.
"Well, well," he declared, "you had better take out those invoices,
and ask Jarvis to see me at once about Budden & Williams'
account.... God bless my soul alive, why, here's Mrs. Weatherley!"
A car had stopped outside and both men had caught a vision of a
fur-clad feminine figure crossing the pavement. Mr. Weatherley's
fingers, busy already with his tie, were trembling with excitement.
His whole appearance was transformed.
"Hurry out and meet her, Chetwode!" he exclaimed. "Show her the way
in! This is the first time in her life she has been here of her own
accord. Just as we were speaking about her, too!"
Fenella entered the office as a princess shod in satin might enter a
pigsty. Her ermine-trimmed gown was raised with both her hands, her
delightful nose had a distinct tilt
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