"Call, and be hanged, if you like!" was the reply; and as Mr. Taylor was
not usually a man given to violent language, I understood that Miss
Blake's name acted upon his temper with the same magical effect as a red
rag does upon that of a turkey-cock.



4. MYSELF AND MISS BLAKE


Colonel Morris, after leaving River Hall, had migrated temporarily to a
fashionable West End hotel, and was, when I called to see him, partaking
of tiffin in the bosom of his family, instead of at his club.

As it was notorious that he and Mrs. Morris failed to lead the most
harmonious of lives, I did not feel surprised to find him in an
extremely bad temper.

In person, short, dapper, wiry, thin, and precise, his manner matched
his appearance. He had martinet written on every square foot of his
figure. His moustache was fiercely waxed, his shirt-collar inflexible,
his backbone stiff, while his shoulder-blades met flat and even behind.
He held his chin a little up in the air, and his walk was less a march
than a strut.

He came into the room where I had been waiting for him, as I fancied he
might have come on a wet, cold morning to meet an awkward-squad. He held
the card I sent for his inspection in his hand, and referred to it,
after he had looked me over with a supercilious glance.