The Black Cabinet Read Free Page A

Tell her to come here. She can back her bicycle. No, a message won’t do.” Then, as Chloe reluctantly backed, “Tell Lady Gresson that a Petit Beurre biscuit will do if she hasn’t a Marie—but Toto likes Maries better. And oh, tell her, on no account more than one lump of sugar—and not a large one.”
    Chloe quickened her pace, and breathed more freely when she had turned another corner. As I soon as she was out of sight she gave Toto a smart slap, mounted her bicycle, and rode on briskly. Toto, after one enraged yelp, fixed her with green, malignant eyes, and subsided.

Chapter III
    The music-room at Ranbourne was full of the rather raucous strains of the latest fox-trot and the sound of dancing feet. Chloe stood on the threshold with Toto under one arm, and saw Monica Gresson detach herself from her very good-looking partner and come forward a shade reluctantly. Even before she spoke, Chloe was aware that this was not one of the days when Monica was going to be “all over her.”
    â€œGood gracious, Chloe! A dog?” Her tone implied that Toto was an offence.
    â€œHe’s not a dog; he’s a horror,” said Chloe. “And thank goodness, he isn’t mine. An old lady who says she’s coming to stay with you pressed him into my hand by the roadside. She said that I was to save his precious life by bringing him here and seeing that he had China tea at once, with one lump of sugar in it, and a Marie biscuit. She said her name was Mrs. Merston Howard.”
    â€œWhat can I do with him?” said Monica, looking helpless.
    â€œHousekeeper’s room,” said Chloe. “And if we’re going to dance, I want to take off my coat and change my shoes.”
    They disposed of Toto, and Chloe slipped out of her coat and patted her hair.
    â€œWho is Mrs. Merston Howard?” she asked.
    â€œMy godmother. She’s frightfully rich, and hasn’t any relations. Mother thinks she’ll leave me her money; but she won’t.”
    â€œShe’ll probably leave it to Toto. Who’s here?”
    â€œJoyce Langholm and the brother from India; and the two Renton boys—you know them; and—and Mr. Fossetter who’s staying with us.”
    Monica’s manner became a trifle conscious. She had the largest blue eyes in the County; on the strength of them she considered herself a beauty. For the rest, Chloe’s description of her as bun-faced was apt enough.
    â€œWho is Mr. Fossetter?” said Chloe, laughing.
    â€œWe met him at Danesborough.” Monica became flushed and eager. “He knows simply everyone and goes everywhere. I believe he’s one of the best dancers in London—and quite too frightfully good-looking. Chloe, you won’t flirt with him, will you?”
    â€œI never flirt,” said Chloe. “And as long as a man can dance, I don’t care twopence how hideous he is, or how handsome.”
    Martin Fossetter was dancing with Joyce Langholm when the door opened. He looked across the room and saw Chloe Dane in a thin orange jumper and a short skirt that showed very pretty feet and ankles.
    â€œWho’s that?” he asked.
    Miss Langholm froze a little.
    â€œA girl Monica used to be at school with. She’s in a shop or something now. It’s awfully decent of Monica to have her here, of course; but I think it’s silly myself—unsettling for the girl, yon know.”
    Martin Fossetter had a most sympathetic voice. He smiled at Joyce and said:
    â€œYes, I know.” Then, after a little pause, “What’s her name?”
    â€œDane—Chloe Dane,” said Miss Langholm.
    Mr. Fossetter began to talk of other things. He had the knack of being personal without impertinence, and his very handsome eyes assured the woman on whom they rested of a most particular and poignant interest. One of the most courted women in England once said of him: “Martin Fossetter makes you feel