an idiosyncracy of mine, I know—but there it is—I never can get on with a fat woman.”
“Fashion agrees with you, Mr. Stavansson,” said Tommy drily. “And everyone has their own pet aversion—that of the late Lord Roberts was cats.”
“Mind you, I’m not saying that Lady Susan isn’t a perfectly charming woman—she may be, but I’ve never taken to her. I’ve always felt, deep down, that she disapproved of our engagement, and I feel sure that she would influence Hermy against me if that were possible. I’m telling you this for what it’s worth. Count it out as prejudice, if you like. Well, to go on with my story, I’m the kind of obstinate brute who likes his own way. I didn’t leave Pont Street until I’d got out of her the names and addresses of the people Hermy was likely to be staying with. Then I took the mail train North.”
“You are, I perceive, a man of action, Mr. Stavansson,” said Tommy, smiling.
“The thing came upon me like a bombshell. Mr. Blunt, none of these people had seen a sign of Hermy. Of the three houses, only one had been expecting her—Lady Susan must have made a bloomer over the other two—and she had put off her visit there at the last moment by telegram. I returned post haste to London, of course, and went straight to Lady Susan. I will do her the justice to say that she seemed upset. She admitted