As for Loveland, he was no longer to be seen. While the police asked questions, the firemen examined dark corners, and the battered crowd trailed gloomily away, Tony looked in vain for his comrade in battle.
Milton, for appearance sake, was compelled to offer escort to his wife, who cried and laughed hysterically, when she did not show symptoms of fainting. The husband's presence relieved Tony from guard duty, and he alleged as an excuse for staying behind the necessity to make a "story" out of the business. His party left the restaurant in carriages and motors, sadder and perhaps wiser; but no one asked for Loveland. Even if they thought of him, the women who had come to see him play the rôle of waiter could hardly acclaim him in the part of hero; while as for the men, if they realised what he and Tony Kidd had done, it was not to their interest or credit to acknowledge it.
Loveland had not, however, mysteriously disappeared. He was only keeping himself in the background; and the one background available at Alexander's was the kitchen.
It was now a smoky and dismal kitchen, with a wild litter of pots and pans, a table overturned, broken dishes, eggs, oysters, and raw batter strewing the floor; nevertheless, it seemed a haven of refuge to Loveland, after what he had suffered.
His dash through the flames to find the gas main had been a deed more gallant perhaps than the impulsive rescue on the battlefield which won him his D. S. O. Tonight, he had deliberately counted the cost, whereas in South Africa he had acted first, and thought afterwards. He was not excited now; that was all over, and there was time to think; yet he was conscious that he had conducted himself not unworthily.
"Funny thing," he thought, as he looked at his burnt left hand, and his singed coat; "funny thing! I suppose I behaved fairly decently, because I had to do it, and there was no other way. But I've fancied myself a lot more, before this, for a grand slam at bridge, or a right and left shot at a couple of birds."
There was no need to prove his courage further by reappearing in the restaurant. If he went back, it would look as if he were bidding for compliments from his late tormentors, and Heaven knew that he wanted nothing of the sort. He wanted only to be let alone. So he lurked in the kitchen, and looked on while Black Dick and Dick's still blacker aide-de-camp calculated and repaired the damage to their supplies. He even condescended to set the fallen table on its legs again, and in return for this service Dick was binding up his injured hand when the sound of a voice behind his back made him turn quickly.