Mrs. Ames Read Free

face. There was no doubt that he had a short pointed beard on his chin, but about halfway up the jawbone the hair got shorter and shorter, and he was quite clean-shaven before itgot up to his ear. It was always a question, in fact, among the junior and less respectful members of the club, whether old Altham had whiskers or not. The general opinion was that he had whiskers, but was unaware of that possession.
    â€˜It is odd that the idea of asking Mrs Ames to dinner occurred to you today,’ he said, ‘for I was wondering also whether we did not owe her some hospitality. And Major Ames, of course,’ he added.
    Mrs Altham smiled a bright detective smile.
    â€˜Next week is impossible, I know,’ she said, ‘and so is the week after, as there is a perfect rush of engagements then. But after that, we might find an evening free. How would it suit you, if I asked Mrs Ames and a few friends to dine on the Saturday of that week? Let me count - seven, fourteen, twenty-one, yes; on the twenty-eighth. I think that probably Mrs Evans will have her garden party on that day. It would make a pleasant ending to such an afternoon. And it would be less of an interruption to both of us, if we give up that day. It would be better than disarranging the week by sacrificing another evening.’
    Mr Altham rang the bell before replying.
    â€˜It is hardly likely that Major and Mrs Ames would have an engagement so long ahead,’ he said. ‘I think we shall be sure to secure them.’
    The bell was answered.
    â€˜A glass of sherry,’ he said. ‘I forgot, my dear, to take my glass of sherry at the club. Young Morton was talking to me, though I don’t know why I call him young, and I forgot about my sherry. Yes, I should think the twenty-eighth would be very suitable.’
    Mrs Altham waited until the parlourmaid had deposited the glass of sherry, and had completely left the room with a shut door behind her.
    â€˜I heard a very extraordinary story today,’ she said, ‘though I don’t for a moment believe it is true. If it is, we shall find that Mrs Ames cannot dine with us on the twenty-eighth, but we shall have asked her with plenty of notice, so that it will count. But one never knows how little truth there may be in what Mrs Taverner says, for it was Mrs Taverner who told me. She said that Mrs Ames has asked General Fortescue to dine with her that night, without asking Mrs Fortescue, and has invited Mrs Evans also without her husband. One doesn’t for a moment believe it, but if we asked Mrs Ames for the same night we should very likely hear about it. Was anything said at the club about it?’
    Mr Altham affected a carelessness which he was very far from feeling.
    â€˜Young Morton did say something of the sort,’ he said. ‘I was not listening particularly, since, as you know, I went there to see if there was anything to be learned about Morocco, and I get tired of his tittle-tattle. But he did mention something of the kind. There is the luncheon bell, my dear. You might write your note immediately and send it by hand, for James will be back from his dinner by now, and tell him to wait for an answer.’
    Mrs Altham adopted this suggestion at once. She knew, of course, perfectly well that the thrilling quality of the news had brought her husband home without waiting to take his glass of sherry at the club, a thing which had not happened since that morning a year ago, when he had learned that Mrs Fortescue had dismissed her cook without a character, but she did not think of accusing him of duplicity. After all, it was the amiable desire to talk these matters over with her without the loss of a moment which was the motive at the base of his action, and so laudable a motive covered all else. So she had her note written with amazingspeed and cordiality, and the boot-and-knife boy, who also exercised the function of the gardener, was instructed to wash his hands and go upon