“That satanic creature,” said Miss Charlotte Cambric, “can wait in the library. Albert, if you and Elsie keep him cooling his heels for less than an hour I shall regard you both as very bad tacticians.”
Her welcome had been as warm as the glow radiating from the fireplace of the great hall where they were standing. She was wearing her business tweeds and had recovered most of her vivacity. An elm log from the fallen giant which now lay dismembered in the forecourt sizzled and spat in the cavernous recess, throwing sparks into the updraft making the scene as unreal as a Christmas card. She held Kopeck at arm’s length, her eyes glistening.
“Vassily, dear man, I’m so delighted and relieved to see you—even in that ridiculous beard. You’ve lost weight—or is it that your clothes fit you for on
