I was never so
disappointed in my life!"
I gripped Mr. Bundercombe by the arm and led him firmly to one side.
"Look here," I said, "is your name Bundercombe?"
"It is," he admitted gloomily.
"Are you a millionaire?" I persisted.
"Multi!" he groaned.
"Then what the blazes--what the----"
I stopped short. Once more the door was opened--this time without the
formality of a knock. If Mr. Bundercombe had seemed anxious and depressed
before it was obvious now that the worst had happened. All the cheerful
life seemed to have faded from his good-humored face. He had literally
collapsed in his clothes. Even Eve gave a little shriek.
Upon the threshold stood Mr. Cullen, and by his side a lady who might have
been anywhere between fifty and sixty years old. She was dressed in a
particularly unattractive checked traveling suit, with a little satchel
suspended from a shiny black leather band round her waist. She wore a
small hat that was much too juvenile for her; and from the back of it a
blue veil, which she had pushed on one side, hung nearly to the floor. Her
complexion was very yellow; she had a square jaw; and through her
spectacles her eyes glittered in a most unpleasant fashion. Her greeting
was scarcely conciliatory.
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