James' Street, Winton gave the
order: "Quick as you can!" One could think better going fast! A little
red had come into his brown cheeks; his eyes under their half-drawn lids
had a keener light; his lips were tightly closed; he looked as he did
when a fox was breaking cover. Gyp could do no wrong, or, if she could,
he would stand by her in it as a matter of course. But he was going
to take no risks--make no frontal attack. Time for that later, if
necessary. He had better nerves than most people, and that kind of
steely determination and resource which makes many Englishmen of his
class formidable in small operations. He kept his cab at the door, rang,
and asked for Gyp, with a kind of pleasure in his ruse.
"She's not in yet, sir. Mr. Fiorsen's in."
"Ah! And baby?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll come in and see her. In the garden?"
"Yes, sir."
"Dogs there, too?"
"Yes, sir. And will you have tea, please, sir?"
"No, thanks." How to effect this withdrawal without causing gossip, and
yet avoid suspicion of collusion with Gyp? And he added: "Unless Mrs.
Fiorsen comes in."
Passing out into the garden, he became aware that Fiorsen was at the
dining-room window watching him, and decided to make no sign that he
knew this. The baby was under the trees at the far end, and the dogs
came rushing thence with a fury which lasted till they came within scent
of him.
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