Under Cover Part 23

"I can only tell you all," Ethel Cartwright declared, "that I know him.

I met him in Paris a year ago."

"Didn't you like him?" Alice inquired.

"I did, very much," the girl said frankly.

Nora spoke in a disappointed manner. "Well, he's evidently yours for this week-end."

"I daresay he won't even remember me," the other girl returned.

"Oh, I bet he will," said Nora, who was able to give Ethel credit for her charm and beauty. "I shall just have to stick around with Monty--a wild tempestuous flirt like Monty!"

"Oh, I don't mind," Monty said with an air of condescension, "not particularly."

"It's time to dress, good people," Michael reminded them.

"Come on, Nora," Alice said rising. "Come, Monty. Ethel, you'll have to amuse yourself, as Michael isn't to be depended on."

"You wrong me, my dear," Michael retorted. "I'm going for my one solitary c.o.c.ktail and then I'll be back."

"And only one, remember," Alice warned him.

"You know me, my dear," he said, "when I say one."

"You sometimes mean only one at a time," she laughed. "You are still the same consistent old Michael. And by the way, if Mr. Denby does happen to turn up, tell him we'll be down soon."

"I'll send him in to Ethel if he comes."

"Yes, please do," the girl said brightly.

When she was left alone in the big hall, the coolest apartment in the big house during the afternoon, Ethel Cartwright went to the French windows and looked out over the smooth lawns to the trees at the back of them. A long drive wound its way to the highroad, up which she could see speeding a big motor. The porte-cochere was at the other side of the house and she retraced her steps to the hall she had left with the hope of meeting the man she had liked so much a year ago in Paris.

A minute later he was ushered in, but did not at first see her. Then, as he looked about the big apartment, he caught sight of the girl, and stood for a moment staring as though he could hardly venture to believe it was she.

"Miss Cartwright," he cried enthusiastically, "is it really you?"

She took his outstretched hands graciously. "How do you do, Mr. Denby,"

she said.

"Mr. Harrington told me to expect a surprise," he cried, "but I was certainly not prepared for such a pleasant one as this. How are you?"

"Splendid," she answered. "And you?"

"Very, very grateful to be here."

"I wondered if you'd remember me," she said; "it's a long time ago since we were in Paris."

"It was only the day before yesterday," he a.s.serted.

"And what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, I thought I'd run over and see if New York was finished yet."

"Are you still doing--nothing?" she demanded, a tinge of disappointment in her voice.

He looked at her with a smile. "Still--nothing," he answered.

"Ah," she sighed, "I had such hopes of you, a year ago in Paris."

"And I of you," he said, boldly looking into her eyes.

Her manner was more distant now. "I'm afraid I don't admire idlers very much. Why don't you do something? You've ability enough, Mr. Denby."

"It's so difficult to get a thrill out of business," he complained.

"And you must have thrills?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, "it's such a dull old world nowadays."

"Then why," she exclaimed jestingly, "why don't you take to crime?"

"I have thought of it," he laughed, "but the stake's too high--a thrill against prison."

"So you want only little thrills then, Mr. Denby?"

"No," he told her, "I'd like big ones better. Life or even death--but not prison. And what have you done since I saw you last? You are still doing nothing, too?"

"Nothing," she said, smiling.

"And you're still Miss Cartwright?"

"_Only_ Miss Cartwright," she corrected.

"Good," he said, looking at her steadily. "By George, it doesn't seem a year since that week in Paris. What made you disappear just as we were having such bully times?"

"I had to come back to America suddenly. I had only an hour to catch the boat. I explained all that in my note though. Didn't you even take the trouble to read it?"

He looked at her amazed. "I never even received it." There was a touch of relief in his voice. "So you sent me a note! Do you know, I thought you'd dropped me, and I tell you I hit with an awful crash."

"I sent it by a porter and even gave him a franc," she smiled. "I ought to have given him five."

"I'd willingly have given him fifty," Denby said earnestly. "It wasn't nice to think that I'd been dropped like that."

"And I thought you'd dropped me," she said.

"I should say not," he exclaimed. "I was over here six months ago and I did try to see you, but you were at Palm Beach. I can't tell you how often I've sent you telepathic messages," he added whimsically. "Ever get any of 'em?"

"Some of them, I think," she said smiling. "And now to think we've met here on Long Island. It's a far cry to Paris."