CHAPTER XV
"Be Bold, Be Bold"
Lord Vernon, no doubt, would have spoken with less acerbity but for the
fact that his nerves were jangling badly. The lift was started promptly,
but it required all his self-control to remain seated in his chair
during the slow progress upward of the great machine of which Monsieur
Pelletan was so proud. Scarcely had the door of his apartment closed
behind him, when he threw aside the invalid wrappings with a perfect
fury, sprang from his chair, and hastened into the inner room. Collins
and Blake were seated at a table there, labouring with a telegram in
cipher.
"What's the matter now?" demanded Collins, sharply, as he looked up and
saw Vernon's disordered face.
For answer, Vernon took from his pocket a folded paper and tossed it on
the table.
Collins picked it up, opened it, and read its contents.
"Well?" he said, looking up with a sigh of relief. "If this is the note
you wrote those Rushford girls, I must say I think you've done a mighty
wise thing to get it back. It was a dangerous thing to have lying
around. Have you had a quarrel?" and he grinned a little maliciously.
"Collins," said Vernon, coldly, "you have the poorest conception of good
taste of any man I know, and I know some awful bounders. But I won't
quarrel with you now, for you'll be grinning on the other side of that
ugly mouth of yours anyway in about a minute.
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