has one's music, and one's books, of course He must be very, very fond of music!"
Such were the hushed, tentative fragments I caught.
The moments passed. Belknap-Jackson went to the telephone. "What? But they're not here! Very strange! They should have been here half an hour ago. Send some one—yes, at once." In the ensuing silence he repaired to the buffet and drank a glass of vodka. Quite distraught he was.
The moments passed. Again several guests exchanged seats with other guests. It seemed to be a device for relieving the strain. Once more there were scattering efforts at normal talk. "Myrtle is a strange girl—a creature of moods, I call her. She wanted to act in the moving pictures until papa bought the car. And she knows every one of the new tango steps, but I tell her a few lessons in cooking wouldn't Beryl Mae is just the same puzzling child; one thing one day, and another thing the next; a mere bundle of nerves, and so sensitive if you say the least little thing to her . . . If we could only get Ling Wong back—this Jap boy is always threatening to leave if the men don't get up to breakfast on time, or if Gertie makes fudge in his kitchen of an afternoon . . . Our boy sends all his wages to his uncle in China, but I simply can't get him to say, 'Dinner is served.' He just slides in and says, 'All right, you come!' It's very annoying, but I always tell the family, 'Remember what a time we had with the Swede'"
I mean to say, things were becoming rapidly impossible. The moments passed. Belknap-Jackson again telephoned: "You did send a man after them? Send some one after him, then. Yes, at once!" He poured himself another
