That's--for Miss Schley--for the Syndicate--ten
per cent. on the gross, and twenty-five per cent.--"
He found himself in mental arithmetic.
"The--swan with the golden eggs!" said Lady Holme, lightly, turning once
more to Leo Ulford. "You mustn't kill Miss Schley."
Mrs. Wolfstein looked at Mr. Laycock and murmured to him:
"Pimpernel does any killing that's going about--for herself. What d'you
say, Franky?"
They went out of the box together, followed by "Henry," who was still
buzzing calculations, like a Jewish bee.
Lord Holme resolutely tore himself from the ear-trumpet, and was
preparing to follow, with the bellowed excuse that he was "sufferin' from
toothache" and had been ordered to "do as much smokin' as possible," when
the curtain rose on the second act.
Miss Schley was engaged to a supper-party that evening and did not wish
to be late. Lord Holme sat down again looking scarcely pleasant.
"Do as much--the what?" cried Mrs. Ulford, holding the trumpet at right
angles to her pink face.
Leo Ulford leant backwards and hissed "Hush!" at her. She looked at him
and then at Lady Holme, and a sudden expression of old age came into her
bird-like face and seemed to overspread her whole body. She dropped the
trumpet and touched the diamonds that glittered in the front of her low
gown with trembling hands.
Mr. Laycock slipped into the box when the curtain had been up two or
three minutes, but Sir Donald did not return.
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