After a pause Justin said with notable restraint,
“It sounds damp-water in the cellars, and mildew on your shoes in the morning.”
Dorinda shook her head.
“It’s not that kind of mill-she said so. It’s on the top of a hill. There used to be a windmill, but it fell down and somebody built this house. I’ll write and tell you all about it. Did you hear me say I was going down tomorrow?”
“Yes. You’d better dine with me tonight.”
Dorinda laughed.
“I don’t know that I can.”
“Why don’t you know?”
“Well, I was dining with Tip, but I told him I wouldn’t unless he let Buzzer come too, and I don’t really know-”
Justin said in his most superior voice,
“Cut it out! I’ll call for you at half past seven.”
Chapter II
Martin Oakley came out of Gregory Porlock’s office and shut the door. He stood with his hand on the knob for about half a minute as if he were half inclined to turn it again and go back. A tall man of a loose, rangy build, with a sallow skin, receding hair, and dark, rather veiled eyes. As he presently made up his mind and went on down the stairs without waiting for the lift he was frowning. If Dorinda Brown had been there she would have been struck by his resemblance to the cross dark little boy whom she had encountered briefly as she came away from Mrs. Oakley’s suite. But Dorinda wasn’t there-she was telephoning ecstatically to Justin Leigh from the Heather Club. There was, therefore, no one to remark on the likeness.
Inside the room which Martin Oakley had just left, Gregory Porlock, with everything handsome about him, was holding a telephone receiver to his ear and waiting for Mr.