"The last was too good to spoil.
But you haven't answered my question, Jimmy. What did you mean
when you asked if we were going down?"
Jimmy's face had become wooden.
"I meant nothing, sir," he said. "Sorry I spoke."
The two men turned away. They recognised many acquaintances in
the supper-room, and in the long gallery beyond, where many
couples were dancing now to the music of a wonderful orchestra.
By slow stages they made their way back to the winter-garden,
where Lady Cynthia and Margaret were still lost in admiration
of their surroundings. They all walked the whole length of
the place. Beyond, down a flight of stone steps, was a short,
paved way to the river. A large electric launch was moored at
the quay. The grounds outside were dimly illuminated with
cunningly-hidden electric lights shining through purple-coloured
globes into the cloudy darkness. In the background, enveloping
the whole of the house and reaching to the river on either side,
the great wall loomed up, unlit, menacing almost in its suggestions.
A couple of loiterers stood within a few yards of them, looking
at the launch.
"There she is, ready for her errand, whatever it may be," one
said to the other curiously. "We couldn't play the stowaway, I
suppose, could we?"
"Dicky Bell did that once," the other answered.
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