“Mr. Bender’s cheque-book—in his car,” she went on to Gotch, who had answered her summons.
The owner of the interesting object further instructed him: “You’ll find in the pocket a large red morocco case.”
“Very good, sir,” said Gotch—but with another word for his mistress. “Lord John would like to know—”
“Lord John’s there?” she interrupted.
Gotch turned to the open door. “Here he is, my lady.”
She accommodated herself at once, under Mr. Bender’s eye, to the complication involved in his lordship’s presence. “It’s he who went round to Bond Street.”
Mr. Bender stared, but saw the connection. “To stop the show?” And then as the young man was already there: “You’ve stopped the show?”
“It’s ‘on’ more than ever!” Lord John responded while Gotch retired: a hurried, flurried, breathless Lord John, strikingly different from the backward messenger she had lately seen despatched. “But Theign should be here!”—he addressed her excitedly. “I announce you a call from the Prince.”
“The Prince?”—she gasped as for the burden of the honour. “He follows you?”
Mr. Bender, with an eagerness and a candour there was no mistaking, recognised on behalf of his ampler action a world of associational advantage and auspicious possibility. “Is the Prince after the thing?”