"There is the parlour," Miss Marty made answer in an undertone.
"This gentleman may not detain the Major long." She turned to the
stranger. "Your business, sir, is doubtless private?"
"I should prefer."
"Quite so." She raised her voice and called, "Scipio! Scipio!
Ah, there you are! Take this gentleman's card out to the terrace and
inform the Major that he desires an interview."
"Why, hallo!" exclaimed the Major, glancing up at the sound of a
blind being drawn above, in the Custom House window. "What the deuce
is delaying Pennefather?"
While he speculated, Scipio emerged from the house, bearing in one
hand a decanter of brown sherry, and in the other a visitor's card.
"Eh--what? M. Cesar Dupin?" The Major, holding the card almost at
arm's length, conned it with a puzzled frown.
"From Guernsey, Major."
"Good Lord! And I've just invited Pennefather!" The Major rose
half-way from his chair with a face of dismay.
Scipio glanced up at the Custom House window. He, too, had caught
the sound of the drawn blind.
"Mas' Pennefather, Major, if you'll excuse me, he see a hole t'ro' a
ladder, but not t'ro' a brick wall. Shall I show the genelman in?"
"I fear," began Miss Marty, as the Doctor took a seat in the parlour,
"I greatly fear that Scipio has carried the brown sherry out to the
terrace."
Dr. Hansombody smiled as a lover but sighed as a connoisseur.
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