Master of Hearts Read Free

Then he rubbed his eyes as if he was annoyed at his own weakness and scrambled off her lap.
    "Who are you?" he demanded aggressively, with a marked American accent.
    "I don't need to be told who you are," she replied, deferring the business of introducing herself until later. And if she wasn't engaged to look after them there would be no need to introduce herself. "But, what are you doing here?" she demanded. She looked with sudden horror at the fragments of torn letter and the ink-spots on the otherwise unblemished blotter, and as the second redhead crawled out from underneath the desk and she decided that they were twins she challenged him, too. "What are you doing here? Isn't this out of bounds for you? It looks like your uncle's study!"
     
    "It is," the second redhead admitted, and treated her to a wide, engaging grin that showed a gap in the middle of his top teeth. He added a trifle nasally, and also a little huskily, as if he had a permanent frog in his throat: "But we watched him go out in his big black car, and we knew he wouldn't be back for some time because he said to Filippo before he went that the lady would have to be asked to wait. Are you the lady?" he wanted to know, with sudden interest.
    "I—" Kathleen bit her lip. So that was it! The Conde had been called away, and his servant had forgotten to inform her that she would be kept waiting. Or perhaps she hadn't clearly understood what the man had said, because at that time her knees had been shaking a little and she had been far from certain that she ought to have come at all. Now she couldn't help feeling thankful she had come, because someone would have to do something about the mess these two had created.
    "Never mind unimportant things now," she said; "but let's get down on our knees and pick up these bits, shall we?" With a delighted shriek the two flung themselves down beside her, and it became a scramble to pick up the bits of torn letter. Jerry (or Jeronimo, as she found out later the elder of the twins' name was) became so excited that he fairly rolled on the floor in his enthusiasm, while Joe (named simply and solely after his American father) fought anyone who got in his way when he was after a particular fragment.
    The sounds of their laughter and their shrill, eager voices must have reached far beyond the door that admitted to the ante-room, but Kathleen could do nothing to check the hysterical fervour once she had started it, and as soon as all the pieces were collected she tried to calm them down by telling them they would have to change the blotter. At once they fell upon it, and in the tug-of-war that ensued, each twin wishing to be the one who would actually remove the stained blotting-paper and reveal the virgin white beneath, they once more fell upon the floor, and Kathleen got tripped up by their threshing legs and arms and went down, too. Which caused such a
     
    shriek of merriment that every other sound — save that which might have been caused by an explosion — was muffled by it.
    Jerry thought this was the best fun he had had for a long time — certainly the best fun any adult had afforded him since his father died. And he wound his thin arms about Kathleen's neck and kept her down on the rich gold carpet beside him, his strength astounding her because at a glance he looked a mere scrap of a boy; while Joe reached frenziedly for the blotter and began blissfully tearing off white strips. And it was while all this was taking place that the door that had been left standing partly open was suddenly thrust wide open, and a man stood observing them in utter silence.
    Jerry was the first to realise he was there, and he uttered a gasp of genuine horror. Kathleen took advantage of the sudden relaxation of the small arms about her neck and struggled to her feet, her spun-golden hair ruffled and her cheeks brilliantly flushed, and Joe said simply, in an awe-stricken voice:
    "It's Uncle Miguel!"
    "Get to your feet, Jeronimo!" a stern, cold