There was once a melodrama where the child of the persecuted heroine used to dissolve the gallery in tears by saying “Happiness? What is happiness, moth-aw?” Mr Pilkington did not use these actual words, but he reproduced the stricken infant’s tone with great fidelity.
“Notices! What are notices to me?”
“Oh, don’t be so affected!” cried Mrs Peagrim. “Don’t pretend that you don’t know every word of them by heart!”
“I have not seen the notices, Aunt Olive,” said Mr Pilkington dully.
Mrs Peagrim looked at him with positive alarm. She had never been overwhelmingly attached to her long nephew, but since his rise to fame something resembling affection had sprung up in her, and his attitude now disturbed her.
“You can’t be well, Otie!” she said solicitously. “Are you ill?”
“I have a severe headache,” replied the martyr. “I passed a wakeful night.”
“Let me go and mix you a dose of the most wonderful mixture,” said Mrs. Peagrim maternally. “Poor boy! I don’t wonder, after all the nervousness and excitement — You sit quite still and rest. I will be back in a moment.”
She bustled out of the room, and Mr Pilkington sagged back into his chair. He had hardly got his meditations going once more, when the door opened and the maid announced “Major Selby.”
“Good morning,” said Uncle Chris breezily, sailing down the fairway with outstretched hand. “How are—oh!”
He stopped abruptly, perceiving that Mrs Peagrim was not present and—a more disturbing discovery—that Otis Pilkington was. It would be exaggeration to say that Uncle Chris was embarrassed. That master-mind was never actually embarrassed. But his jauntiness certainly ebbed a little, and he had to pull his mustache twice before he could face the situation with his customary aplomb. He had not expected to find Otis Pilkington here, and Otis was the last man he wished to meet. He had just parted from Jill, who had been rather plain-spoken with regard to the recent financial operations: and, though possessed only of a rudimentary conscience, Uncle Chris was aware that his next interview with young Mr Pilkington might have certain aspects bordering on awkwardness and he would have liked time to prepare a statement for the defence. However, here the man was, and the situation must be faced.
“Pilkington!” he cried. “My dear fellow! Just the man I wanted to see! I’m afraid there has been a little misunderstanding. Of course, it has all been cleared up now, but still I must insist on making a personal explanation, really I must insist. The whole matter was a most absurd misunderstanding. It was like this —”
Here Uncle Chris paused in order to devote a couple of seconds to thought. He had said it was “like this,” and he gave his mustache another pull as though he were trying to drag inspiration out of it. His blue eyes were as frank and honest as ever, and showed no trace of the perplexity in his mind, but he had to admit to himself that, if he managed to satisfy his hearer that all was for the best and that he had acted uprightly and without blame, he would be doing well.
Fortunately, the commercial side of Mr Pilkington was entirely dormant this morning. The matter of the ten thousand dollars seemed trivial to him in comparison with the weightier problems which occupied his mind.
“Have you seen Miss Mariner?” he asked eagerly.
“Yes. I have just parted from her. She was upset, poor girl, of course, exceedingly upset.”
Mr Pilkington moaned hollowly.
“Is she very angry with me?”
For a moment the utter inexplicability of the remark silenced Uncle Chris. Why Jill should be angry with Mr Pilkington for being robbed of ten thousand dollars, he could not understand, for Jill had told him nothing of the scene that had taken place on the previous night. But evidently this point was to Mr Pilkington the nub of the matter, and Uncle Chris, like the strategist he was, rearranged his forces to meet the new development.
“Angry?” he said slowly. “Well, of course —”
He did not know what it was all about, but no doubt if he confined himself to broken sentences which meant nothing light would shortly be vouchsafed to him.