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He came to the foot of the hill and to the Bottom Bridge. The bridge divided his fishing from Mr. Danberry-Phi
“Ah, hell!” muttered the Colonel. He crossed the bridge and passed out of sight of Jacob’s Cottage and continued on his way home.
The path crossed a narrow meadow and climbed the lower reach of Watt’s Hill. His own coppice and Commander Syce’s spi
The path was narrow. It was essential that someone should give way and the Colonel, sick of rows with his neighbours, stood on one side. Mr. Phi
“Hullo, old girl,” said the Colonel. He stooped down and snapped a finger and thumb at her. She stared briefly and passed him with a preoccupied air, twitching the tip of her tail.
The Colonel straightened up and found himself face-to-face with Mr. Phi
“Good evening,” said the Colonel.
“Sir,” said Mr. Phi
For Thomasina, waywardly taken with the Colonel, had returned and rolled on her back at his feet.
“Nice cat,” said the Colonel and added, “Good fishing to you. The Old ’Un lies below the bridge on my side, by the way.”
“Indeed?”
“As no doubt you guessed,” the Colonel added against his better judgment, “when you watched me through your field-glasses.”
If Mr. Phi
“None whatever. You can stare,” said the Colonel, “at the Chyne, or me, or anything else you fancy till you are black in the face, for all I care. But if you realized… If you…” He scratched his head, a gesture that with the Colonel denoted profound emotional disturbance. “My dear Phi
He encircled Mr. Phi
He mended his pace and followed the path into the Hammer coppice. Whether summoned by maternal obligations or because she had taken an inscrutable cat’s fancy to the Colonel, Thomasina Twitchett accompanied him, trilling occasionally and looking about for an evening bird. They came within view of the lawn, and there was Commander Syce, bow in hand, quiver at thigh and slightly unsteady on his feet, hunting about in the underbrush.
“Hullo, Cartarette,” he said. “Lost a damned arrow. What a thing! Missed the damned target and away she went.”
“Missed it by a dangerously wide margin, didn’t you?” the Colonel rejoined rather testily. After all, people did use the path, he reflected, and he began to help in the search. Thomasina Twitchett, amused by the rustle of leaves, pretended to join in the hunt.
“I know,” Commander Syce agreed; “rotten bad show, but I saw old Phi
He thrust his hand into a heap of dead leaves. Thomasina Twitchett leapt merrily upon it and fleshed her claws in his wrist. “Perishing little bastard,” said Commander Syce. He freed himself and aimed a spank at her which she easily avoided and being tired of their company, made for her home and kittens. The Colonel excused himself and turned up through the spi
His wife was in her hammock dangling a tightly encased black-velvet leg, a flame-coloured sleeve and a pair of enormous ear-rings. The cocktail tray was already on her iron table.
“How late you are,” she said, idly. “Di
“I had to see George.”
“What about?”
“Some business his father asked me to do.”
“How illuminating.”
“It was very private, my dear.”
“How is George?”
The Colonel remembered George’s empurpled face and said, “Still rather upset.”
“We must ask him to di
“When did you arrange that?”
“Just now. About twenty minutes ago,” she said, watching him.
“Kitty, I’d rather you didn’t.”
“You don’t by any chance suspect me of playing you false with George, do you?”
“Well,” said the Colonel after a long pause, “are you?”
“No.”
“I still think it might be better not to play golf with him tomorrow.”
“Why on earth?”
“Kitty, what have you said to George about Mark and Rose?”
“Nothing you couldn’t have seen for yourself, darling. Rose is obviously head over heels in love with Mark.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“My good Maurice, you don’t suppose the girl is going to spend the rest of her existence doting on Daddy, do you?”
“I wouldn’t have it for the world. Not for the world.”
“Well, then.”
“But I… I didn’t know… I still don’t believe…”
“He turned up here five minutes ago looking all churned-up, and they’re closeted together in the drawing-room. Go and see. I’ll excuse your changing, if you like.”
“Thank you, my dear,” the Colonel said miserably and went indoors.
If he hadn’t been so rattled and worried he would no doubt have given some sort of warning of his approach. As it was, he crossed the heavy carpet of the hall, opened the drawing-room door and discovered his daughter locked in Mark Lacklander’s arms, from which embrace she was making but ineffectual attempts to escape.