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Chapter VIII

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It would be difficult to say which of the three was the most astounded by the episode. It was Tydvil, however, who first recovered himself. "If, Mr. Brewer, you have all you needed, there is no reason for you to wait." The freezing politeness of the words matched his manner. He stood aside, holding the door open for the exit of the culprit. And—Mr. Brewer went, but not gracefully. The flushed girl waited beside her chair as Tydvil hung up his coat and hat. He took his seat and motioned her to hers. As she sat down, Geraldine stammered, "Oh, Mr. Jones—I— I."

He held up his hand. "I think, Miss Brand, that unless you particularly wish to discuss the—er—episode, which, I have no doubt, was extremely distasteful to you, we will not refer to it—for the present, at any rate. Let us get to our mail first."

Geraldine murmured her thanks, and passed the piled letters across the table. In a few minutes they were deep in work. Long practice and a complete understanding of his methods made words almost unnecessary between them. Papers passed to and fro almost in silence. Occasionally he paused to give her a note to be brought before him later. In a remarkably short space of time, the piled letters vanished, leaving only those that required his personal attention. As she took the last letter from his hand, she picked up her pencil. "Ready?" he asked. The girl nodded assent.

"First," he said, "I wish you to look through all of the morning papers for a paragraph similar to this." He passed her a cutting. "Then send this note to the editor of each paper in which it appears. I want this done at once, and sent out by special messenger."

"To the editor.—Sir, my attention has been drawn to a paragraph in your columns this morning which stated that I have offered a gift of one thousand pounds to the funds of the Moral Uplift Society. I would be pleased if you would give similar publicity to my personal statement that I did not make any offer of the kind. Further, I would like it to be clearly understood that I do not intend in future to make any contributions to the society mentioned."

Tydvil paused, and said smilingly, "What happens when one burns one's boats, Miss Brand?"

Geraldine glanced up from her note-book. "I suppose you stay where you are, or swim home."

"Exactly," he replied, "and I cannot swim."

That morning Geraldine found a strange indecision in Tydvil's dictation. Usually her pencil had to fly to keep up with him, but now, for minutes at a time, she found herself tracing patterns with her pencil while waiting for him to continue.

The fact was that Tydvil had found that his skirmish with Amy, followed so closely by the Brand-Brewer episode, had thoroughly disjointed his normal orderly mind. For the first time since she had taken on her duties as his secretary, he recognised that Miss Brand was not only a young woman, but a positively beautiful young woman. It seemed as though Brewer, by some magic, had opened his eyes.

Again and again he found himself wondering how he had, until now, overlooked the beauty of that rich head of hair. Never, until that morning, had he observed those mischievous little curls that nestled against her neck. Again, as he paused, his eye was taken by the delicate line and perfect colour of the half turned cheek.

Between two sentences in an important letter to the manager of his Sydney branch, Tydvil was staggered by the intrusion of an idea that, after all, Billy Brewer was not so much to blame for falling from grace. This was followed by a thought still more heinous. He found himself envying Billy's freedom to kiss a lovely girl without disturbing his conscience; and contrasting it with his own enthralment. Billy had lived, but he—"Phoo!" The exclamation escaped him unconsciously.

At the sound, Geraldine glanced up. "I'm afraid I did not quite catch..."

"Nothing at all," replied Jones, more airily than he felt, "I did not speak."

At last it was over. "I do not wish to be interrupted this morning, as I shall be busy," he said, as Geraldine picked up her baskets full of papers and turned to leave the room.

At the door she hesitated and turned round. He looked at her enquiringly.

"I would like to say..." Her face flushed divinely. "I mean, that so far as I am concerned—there will be no need to—" then, with a rush, "to say anything to Mr. Brewer about his foolishness this morning. I am able to look after my own interests."

There was a quizzical smile on the face of Tydvil Jones as he answered, "Yes, I noticed that, too. However, I shall do as you wish, Miss Brand." She went out and closed the door softly behind her. For a long time Jones sat staring at it in smiling thought. "Now, I wonder!" he said to himself. "Now, I wonder!"

The Missing Angel

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