He followed Jill into the house, groaning in spirit, but thankful that she had taken it for granted that he had secured their release in the manner indicated. He did not propose to disillusion her. It would be time enough to take the blame when the blame came along. Probably old Derek would simply be amused and laugh at the whole bally affair like a sportsman. Freddie cheered up considerably at the thought.
Jill was talking to the parlormaid whose head had popped up over the banisters flanking the stairs that led to the kitchen.
“Major Selby hasn’t arrived yet, miss.”
“That’s odd. I suppose he must have taken a later train.”
“There’s a lady in the drawing-room, miss, waiting to see him. She didn’t give any name. She said she would wait till the major came. She’s been waiting a goodish while.”
“All right, Jane. Thanks. Will you bring up tea.”
They walked down the hall. The drawing-room was on the ground floor, a long, dim room that would have looked like a converted studio but for the absence of bright light. A girl was sitting at the far end by the fireplace. She rose: as they entered.
“How do you do?” said Jill. “I’m afraid my uncle has not come back yet —”
“Say!” cried the visitor. “You did get out quick!”
Jill was surprised. She had no recollection of ever having seen the other before. Her visitor was a rather pretty girl, with a sort of jaunty way of carrying herself which made a piquant contrast to her tired eyes and wistful face. Jill took an immediate liking to her. She looked so forlorn and pathetic.
“My name’s Nelly Bryant,” said the girl. “That parrot belongs to me.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I heard you say to the cop that you lived here, so I came along to tell your folks what had happened, so that they could do something. The maid said that your uncle was expected any minute, so I waited.”
“That was awfully good of you.”
“Dashed good,” said Freddie.
“Oh, no! Honest, I don’t know how to thank you for what you did. You don’t know what a pal Bill is to me. It would have broken me all up if that plug-ugly had killed him.”
“But what a shame you had to wait so long.”
“I liked it.”
Nelly Bryant looked about the room wistfully. This was the sort of room she sometimes dreamed about. She loved its subdued light and the pulpy cushions on the sofa.
“You’ll have some tea before you go, won’t you?” said Jill, switching on the lights.
“It’s very kind of you.”
“Why, hullo!” said Freddie. “By Jove! I say! We’ve met before, what?”
“Why, so we have!”
“That lunch at Oddy’s that young Threepwood gave, what?”
“I wonder you remember.”
“Oh, I remember. Quite a time ago, eh? Miss Bryant was in that show, ‘Follow the Girl,’ Jill, at the Regal.”
“Oh, yes. I remember you took me to see it.”
“Dashed odd meeting again like this!” said Freddie. “Really rummy!”
Jane, the parlormaid, entering with tea, interrupted his comments.
“You’re American, then?” said Jill, interested. “The whole company came from New York, didn’t they?”
“Yes.”
“I’m half American myself, you know. I used to live in New York when I was very small, but I’ve almost forgotten what it was like. I remember a sort of over-head railway that made an awful noise —”
“The Elevated!” murmured Nelly devoutly. A wave of homesickness seemed to choke her for a moment.
“And the air. Like champagne. And a very blue sky.”
“Yes,” said Nelly in a small voice.
“I shouldn’t half mind popping over New York for a bit,” said Freddie, unconscious of the agony he was inflicting. “I’ve met some very sound sportsmen who came from there. You don’t know a fellow named Williamson, do you?”
“I don’t believe I do.”
“Or Oakes?”
“No.”
“That’s rummy! Oakes has lived in New York for years.”
“So have about seven million other people,” interposed Jill. “Don’t be silly, Freddie. How would you like somebody to ask of you if you knew a man named Jenkins in London?”
“I do know a man named Jenkins in London,” replied Freddie triumphantly.