At the porch she paused to await him, and turned her face for a moment to
the darkening sky. But the Star of Hope was veiled.
CHAPTER XII
A PAIR OF GLOVES
"Piers! Where the devil are you, Piers?"
There was loud exasperation in the query as Sir Beverley halted in the
doorway of his grandson's bedroom.
There was a moment's pause; then Victor the valet came quickly forward.
"But, _Monsieur Pierre_, he bathe himself," he explained, with beady eyes
running over the gaunt old figure in the entrance.
Sir Beverley growled at him inarticulately and turned away.
A moment later he was beating a rousing tattoo on the bathroom-door.
"Piers! Let me in! Do you hear? Let me in!"
The vigorous splashing within came to a sudden stop. "That you, sir?"
called Piers.
"Of course it's me!" shouted back Sir Beverley, shaking the door
with fierce impatience. "Damn it, let me in! I'll force the door if
you don't."
"No, don't, sir; don't! I'm coming!"
There came the sound of a splashing leap, and bare feet raced across the
bathroom floor. The door was wrenched from Sir Beverley's grasp, and
flung open. Piers, quite naked, stood back and bowed him in with
elaborate ceremony.
Sir Beverley entered and glared at him.
Piers shut the door and took a flying jump back into the bath. The room
was dense with steam.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124