Lady Mary Norcross--deep in the obligatory business of dressing for dinner--had just taken up a powder puff and was assiduously dabbing the back of her neck, when the door behind her opened softly and the voice of her liege lord travelled across the breadth of the room, saying:
"Mary! May I come in a minute, dear? I just want to get my cheque book out of your writing desk--that's all."
"Yes, certainly. Come in by all means," gave back her ladyship. "I'm quite alone. Springer has finished with me, and oh! Good heavens! Seton! My dear, my _dear_!"
"All right. Don't get frightened. It isn't mine. And it isn't his, either--much of it. We've been having a little 'set to' at the stable, and I got it hugging a policeman."
"Yes--I know it's awful, but I simply couldn't help it. Demmit it, Mary, don't look so shocked--I'd have _kissed_ the beggar as well, if I thought I could acquire the trick of that heavenly 'jab with the left' that way. I haven't had such a beautiful time since the day I was twenty-one, darling; he fights like a blooming _angel_, that chap."
"What chap? What on earth are you talking about?"
"That man Cleek. Weeping Widows! It was the prettiest job you ever saw. We're sending the beggar over to the hospital--and----Tell you all about it when I get back. Can't stop just now, dear. Bye, bye!"
Then the door closed with a smack, and man and cheque book were on their way downstairs.
It is a recognized fact in police circles that crime has a curious propensity for indulging in periodical outbursts of great energy, great fecundity, and then lapsing into a more or less sporadic condition for a time--like a gorged tiger that drowses, and stirs only to lick its chops after a hideous feast. So that following the lines of these fixed principles the recent spell of criminal activity was succeeded by a sort of lull, and the next two weeks were idle ones for Cleek.
Idle but idyllic--from his point of view; for he was back in the little house in the pleasant country lands now, with his walled garden, his ferns and his flowers, and the full glory of tulip-time was here.
And soon another "glory" would be here as well.
In twelve more days _she_ would be back in England. In twelve more days he and Dollops would move out, and Ailsa Lorne would move in, and this little Eden in the green and fragrant meadowlands would have another tenant from that time forth.
