Warning Hill by John P. Marquand Read Free Book Online Page A

as everlastingly hanged as you are that you—that you’ll—”
    â€œContinue in the nursery?” asked Miss Meachey.
    â€œThat’s it,” Grafton Jellett nodded feelingly. “That’s exactly it! Ho, hum … I can remember—Does it bore you, Meachey, to hear me talk? But I don’t care if it does.”
    â€œOf course,” said Miss Meachey, “you wouldn’t care.”
    â€œYou know me, don’t you, Meachey?” Mr. Jellett nodded placidly, though Miss Meachey did not speak. “Now I can remember the first company I ever formed—on a shoe string, but nobody knew it till I sold out. I can remember how mad that fellow—what was his name?—it’s queer how bad I am at names but then names don’t mean much—how mad he was when he found he’d given me five times too much. He was the first man I ever made angry.”
    â€œBut not the last,” Miss Meachey said, and Grafton Jellett shook his head.
    â€œNot by a long shot,” he answered. “Ho, hum … you’re a wonder, Meachey; you’ve got as much of a poker face as I have. Right now I’d write out a check for ten thousand to know what you think of me.”
    Miss Meachey moved a step from the door, and she laughed very, very softly at some thought of her own.
    â€œIt may be worth more,” she answered, “not to have you know.”
    Grafton Jellett smiled, and for a moment his whole face relaxed, so that its placidity seemed to leave it for something else, and the edge of that cloak of dullness fluttered vanishing into nothing.
    â€œMeachey,” his voice was nearly gentle with the laughter in it, “do you honestly think that you can shake me down?”
    Yes, those were the days when men were men. Those were the days worth looking back upon. Perhaps Grafton Jellett knew it even then, because in that brief space he was very much himself and confidential almost.
    â€œSo many people have tried to, Meachey,” he added, “and haven’t done it yet. No, sir—not a continental one.”
    â€œI must be going,” said Miss Meachey quickly. “Some one’s coming down the hall.”
    And she was out the French windows to the terrace before a word could be said to stop her. If Grafton Jellett sighed when he saw her go, surely he had a reason. The sight of her was a song to his spirit. Her eyes and her laughter were laden with challenge, like the challenge of distant places, peaceful in eternal summer seas, with blue lagoons beyond the barrier reef, and not a footstep in the sands.
    Hubbard was standing in the open door. It was marvellous how Meachey could have told that he was coming, because his step was almost noiseless.
    â€œA gentleman to see you, sir. A Mr. Michael.”
    â€œWho?” Dully, heavily, Mr. Jellett looked up from his leather chair.
    â€œA Mr. Michael, sir.”
    â€œOh, yes,” said Grafton Jellett. “Show him in.”

V
    Of course Tommy never heard of it till later, when everything had changed. It was so much later when all came together piece by piece that it was hard to bring it back. But even then he could see Grafton Jellett rising from his chair and laying aside his book, the edges fluttering on that mantle of his dullness.
    â€œAh,” he said, “I had an idea you might drop in.”
    Alfred Michael glanced about the room and sighed contentedly. It must have pleased him, for he too loved soft carpets and soft chairs. His lips curled beneath his mustache. His eyes met Grafton Jellett’s and neither looked away.
    â€œDid you?” he inquired. “I had an idea you might have that idea.”
    â€œCooper,” said Mr. Jellett, “looks after me pretty well.”
    â€œHe would,” Alfred Michael answered.
    â€œSit down, Michael.” Grafton Jellett was almost friendly. When he told of it afterwards, he admitted he had not meant to ask Alfred Michael