The Secret Of Chimneys Part 3

'Supposing that. he says "No, sir," or "I'll d.a.m.ned well see you in h.e.l.l first," or something bright and breezy like that?' suggested Lord Caterham.

'That's just what I'm afraid of,' said Lomax simply. 'That's why it suddenly occurred to me that it might be a good thing to ask him down to Chimneys as well. He'd be flattered, naturally, at being asked to meet Prince Michael, and it might be easier to handle him.'

'I'm not going to do it,' said Lord Caterham hastily. 'I don't get on with Canadians, never did - especially those that have lived much in Africa!'

'You'd probably find him a splendid fellow - a rough diamond, you know.'

'No, Lomax. I put my foot down there absolutely. Somebody else has got to tackle him.'

'It has occurred to me,' said Lomax, 'that a woman might be very useful here. Told enough and not too much, you understand. A woman could handle the whole thing delicately and with tact - put the position before him, as it were, without getting his back up. Not that I approve of women in politics - St Stephen's is ruined, absolutely ruined, nowadays. But a woman in her own sphere can do wonders. Look at Henry's wife and what she did for him. Marcia was magnificent unique, a perfect political hostess.'

'You don't want to ask Marcia down for this party, do you?' asked Lord Caterham faintly, turning a little pale at the mention of his redoubtable sister-in-law.

'No, no, you misunderstand me. I was speaking of the influence of women in general. No, I suggest a young woman, a woman of charm, beauty, intelligence?'

'Not Bundle? Bundle would be no use at all. She's a red-hot Socialist if she's anything at all, and she'd simply scream with laughter at the suggestion.'

'I was not thinking of Lady Eileen. Your daughter, Caterham, is charming, simply charming, but quite a child. We need some one with savoir-faire, poise, knowledge of the world - Ah, of course, the very person. My cousin Virginia.'

'Mrs Revel?' Lord Caterham brightened up. He began to feel that he might possibly enjoy the party after all. 'A very good suggestion of yours, Lomax. The most charming woman in London.'

'She is well up in Herzoslovakian affairs too. Her husband was at the Emba.s.sy there, you remember. And, as you say, a woman of great personal charm.'

'A delightful creature,' murmured Lord Caterham.

'That is settled, then.'

Mr Lomax relaxed his hold on Lord Caterham's lapel, and the latter was quick to avail himself of the chance.

'Bye-bye, Lomax, you'll make all the arrangements, won't you?'

He dived into a taxi. As far as it is possible for one upright Christian gentleman to dislike another upright Christian gentleman, Lord Caterham disliked the Hon George Lomax. He disliked his puffy red face, his heavy breathing, and his prominent earnest blue eyes. He thought of the coming weekend and sighed. A nuisance, an abominable nuisance. Then he thought of Virginia Revel and cheered up a little.

'A delightful creature, he murmured to himself. 'A most delightful creature.'

Chapter 4.

INTRODUCING A VERY CHARMING LADY.

George Lomax returned straightway to Whitehall. As he entered the sumptuous apartment in which he transacted affairs of State, there was a scuffling sound.

Mr Bill Eversleigh was a.s.siduously filing letters, but a large armchair near the window was still warm from contact with a human form.

A very likeable young man, Bill Eversleigh. Age at a guess, twenty-five, big and rather ungainly in his movements, a pleasantly ugly face, a splendid set of white teeth and a pair of honest brown eyes.

'Richardson sent up that report yet?'

'No, sir. Shall I get on to him about it?'

'It doesn't matter. Any telephone messages?'

'Miss Oscar is dealing with most of them. Mr Isaacstein wants to know if you can lunch with him at the Savoy tomorrow.'

'Tell Miss Oscar to look in my engagement book. If I'm not engaged, she can ring up and accept.'

'Yes, sir.'

'By the way, Eversleigh, you might ring up a number for me now. Look it up in the book. Mrs Revel, 487 Pont Street.'

'Yes, sir.'

Bill seized the telephone book, ran an unseeing eye down a column of M's, shut the book with a bang and moved to the instrument on the desk. With his hand upon it, he paused, as though in sudden recollection.

'Oh, I say, sir, I've just remembered. Her line's out of order. Mrs Revel's, I mean. I was trying to ring her up just now.'

George Lomax frowned.

'Annoying,' he said, 'distinctly annoying.' He tapped the table undecidedly.

'If it's anything important, sir, perhaps I might go round there now in a taxi. She is sure to be in at this time in the morning.'

George Lomax hesitated, pondering the matter. Bill waited expectantly, poised for instant flight, should the reply be favourable.

'Perhaps that would be the best plan,' said Lomax at last. 'Very well, then, take a taxi there, and ask Mrs Revel if she will be at home this afternoon at four o'clock as I am very anxious to see her about an important matter.'

'Right, sir.'

Bill seized his hat and departed.

Ten minutes later, a taxi deposited him at 487 Pont Street He rang the bell and executed a loud rat-tat on the knocker. The door was opened by a grave functionary to whom Bill nodded with the ease of long acquaintance.

'Morning, Chilvers, Mrs Revel in?'

'I believe, sir, that she is just going out.'

'Is that you, Bill?' called a voice over the banisters. 'I thought I recognized that muscular knock. Come up and talk to me.'

Bill looked up at the face that was laughing down on him, and which was always inclined to reduce him - and not him alone - to a state of babbling incoherency. He took the stairs two at a time and clasped Virginia Revel's outstretched hands tightly in his.

'Hullo, Virginia!'

'Hullo, Bill!'

Charm is a very peculiar thing; hundreds of young women, some of them more beautiful than Virginia Revel, might have said 'Hullo, Bill,' with exactly the same intonation, and yet have produced no effect whatever. But those two simple words, uttered by Virginia, had the most intoxicating effect upon Bill.

Virginia Revel was just twenty-seven. She was tall and of an exquisite slimness - indeed, a poem might have been written to her slimness, it was so exquisitely proportioned. Her hair was of real bronze, with the Greenish tint in its gold; she had a determined little chin, a lovely nose, slanting blue eyes that showed a gleam of deepest cornflower between the half-closed lids, and a delicious and quite indescribable mouth that tilted ever so slightly at one corner in what is known as 'the signature of Venus.' It was a wonderfully expressive face, and there was a sort of radiant vitality about her that always challenged attention. It would have been quite impossible ever to ignore Virginia Revel.

She drew Bill into the small drawing-room which was all pale mauve and green and yellow, like crocuses surprised in a meadow.

'Bill, darling,' said Virginia, 'isn't the Foreign Office missing you? I thought they couldn't get on without you.'

'I've brought a message for you from Codders.'

Thus irreverently did Bill allude to his chief.

'And by the way, Virginia, in case he asks, remember that your telephone was out of order this morning.'

'But it hasn't been.'

'I know that. But I said it was.'

'Why? Enlighten me as to this Foreign Office touch.' Bill threw her a reproachful glance.

'So that I could get here and see you, of course.'

'Oh, darling Bill, how dense of me! And how perfectly sweet of you!'

'Chilvers said you were going out.'

'So I was - to Sloane Street. There's a place there where they've got a perfectly wonderful new hip band.'

'A hip band?'

'Yes, Bill, H-I-P hip, B-A-N-D band. A band to confine the hips. You wear it next the skin.'

'I blush for you Virginia. You shouldn't describe your underwear to a young man to whom you are not related. It isn't delicate.'

'But, Bill dear, there's nothing indelicate about hips. We've all got hips - although we poor women are trying awfully hard to pretend we haven't. This hip band is made of red rubber and comes to just above the knees, and it's simply impossible to walk in it.'

'How awful!' said Bill. 'Why do you do it?'

'Oh, because it gives one such a n.o.ble feeling to suffer for one's silhouette. But don't let's talk about my hip band. Give me George's message.'

'He wants to know whether you'll be in at four o'clock this afternoon.'

'I shan't. I shall be at Ranelagh. Why this sort of formal call? Is he going to propose to me, do you think?'

'I shouldn't wonder.'

'Because, if so, you can tell him that I much prefer men who propose on impulse.'

'Like me?'

'It's not an impulse with you, Bill. It's habit.'

'Virginia, won't you ever -'

'No, no, no, Bill. I won't have it in the morning before lunch. Do try and think of me as a nice motherly person approaching middle age who has your interests thoroughly at heart.'

'Virginia, I do love you so.'

'I know, Bill, I know. And I simply love being loved. Isn't it wicked and dreadful of me? I should like every nice man in the world to be in love with me.'

'Most of them are, I expect,' said Bill gloomily.

'But I hope George isn't in love with me. I don't think he can be. He's so wedded to his career. What else did he say?'

'Just that it was very important.'

'Bill, I'm getting intrigued. The things that George thinks important are so awfully limited. I think I must chuck Ranelagh. After all, I can go to Ranelagh any day. Tell George that I shall be awaiting him meekly at four o'clock.'

Bill looked at his wrist.w.a.tch.

'It seems hardly worthwhile to go back before lunch. Come out and chew something, Virginia.'

'I'm going out to lunch somewhere or other.'

'That doesn't matter. Make a day of it, and chuck everything all round.'

'It would be rather nice,' said Virginia, smiling at him.

'Virginia, you're a darling. Tell me, you do like me rather, don't you? Better than other people.'

'Bill, I adore you. If I had to marry someone - simply had to - I mean if it was in a book and a wicked mandarin said to me, "Marry someone or die by slow torture," I should choose you at once - I should indeed. I should say, "Give me little Bill."'

'Well, then -'

'Yes, but I haven't got to marry anyone. I love being a wicked widow.'

'You could do all the same things still. Go about, and all that. You'd hardly notice me about the house.'

'Bill, you don't understand. I'm the kind of person who marries enthusiastically if they marry at all.'

Bill gave a hollow groan.

'I shall shoot myself one of these days, I expect,' he murmured gloomily.

'No, you won't, Bill darling. You'll take a pretty girl out to supper - like you did the night before last.'

Mr Eversleigh was momentarily confused.

'If you mean Dorothy Kirkpatrick, the girl who's in Hooks and Eyes, I - well, dash it all, she's a thoroughly nice girl, straight as they make 'em. There was no harm in it.'