"
"Whatever his profession may be," put in Siddle's quiet voice, "I happen
to know that he is dining with Mr. Grant. So are Mr. Martin and Doris. By
mere chance I called at Mrs. Jefferson's. I went to the back door, and,
finding it closed, looked into the garden. From there I couldn't help
seeing the assembly on the lawn of The Hollies."
"Dining at Grant's?" shouted Elkin in a fury. "Well, I'm--"
"'Ush, Fred!" expostulated Tomlin with a shocked glance at Mr. Franklin.
"Wot's wrong wi' a bit of grub, ony ways? A very nice-spoken young gent
kem 'ere twiced, an' axed for Mr. Peters the second time. He's a friend
o' Mr. Grant's, I reckon."
"What's wrong?" stormed the horse-dealer. "Why, everything's wrong! The
bounder ought to be in jail instead of giving dinner-parties. Imagine
Doris eating in that house!"
"Ay! Sweetbreads an' saddle o' lamb," interjected Hobbs with the air of
one imparting a secret.
Elkin was pallid with wrath. He glared at Hobbs.
"What I had in my mind was the impudence of the blighter," he said
shrilly. "That poor woman's body leaves here to-morrow for some cemetery
in London, and Grant invites folk to a small dinner to-night!"
A sort of awe fell on the company.
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