"I said typewriter," agreed Bones gravely. "I am speaking about my----"
A light dawned upon Hamilton.
"You mean your secretary?"
"I mean my secretary," said Bones.
"Good Heavens, Bones!" scoffed Hamilton. "Of course I shan't bother
her. She's your private secretary, and naturally I wouldn't think of
giving her work."
"Or orders," said Bones gently. "That's a point, dear old thing. I
simply couldn't sit here and listen to you giving her orders. I should
scream. I'm perfectly certain I can trust you, Ham. I know what you
are with the girls, but there are times----"
"You know what I am with the girls?" said the wrathful Hamilton. "What
the dickens do you know about me, you libellous young devil?"
Bones raised his hand.
"We will not refer to the past," he said meaningly and was so
impressive that Hamilton began to search his mind for some forgotten
peccadillo.
"All that being arranged to our mutual satisfaction, dear old partner,"
said Bones brightly, "permit me to introduce you."
He walked to the glass-panelled door leading to the outer office, and
knocked discreetly, Hamilton watching him in wonder. He saw him
disappear, closing the door after him. Presently he came out again,
following the girl.
"Dear young miss," said Bones in his squeakiest voice, a sure sign of
his perturbation, "permit me to introduce partner, ancient commander,
gallant and painstaking, jolly old Captain Hamilton, D.S.O.--which
stands, young typewriter, for Deuced Satisfactory Officer."
The girl, smiling, shook hands, and Hamilton for the first time looked
her in the face. He had been amazed before by her classic beauty, but
now he saw a greater intelligence than he had expected to find in so
pretty a face, and, most pleasing of all, a sense of humour.
"Bones and I are very old friends," he explained.
"Hem!" said Bones severely.
"Bones?" said the girl, puzzled.
"Naturally!" murmured Bones. "Dear old Ham, be decent. You can't
expect an innocent young typewriter to think of her employer as
'Bones.'"
"I'm awfully sorry," Hamilton hastened to apologise, "but you see,
Bones and I----"
"Dicky Orum," murmured Bones. "Remember yourself, Ham, old indiscreet
one--Mr. Tibbetts. And here's the naughty old picture-taker," he said
in another tone, and rushed to offer an effusive welcome to a smart
young man with long, black, wavy hair and a face reminiscent, to all
students who have studied his many pictures, of Louis XV. Strangely
enough, his name was Louis. He was even called Lew.
"Sit down, my dear Mr. Becksteine," said Bones. "Let me introduce you
to my partner. Captain Hamilton, D.S.O.--a jolly old comrade-in-arms
and all that sort of thing. My lady typewriter you know, and anyway,
there's no necessity for your knowing her---- I mean," he said
hastily, "she doesn't want to know you, dear old thing. Now, don't be
peevish. Ham, you sit there. Becksteine will sit there. You, young
miss, will sit near me, ready to take down my notes as they fall from
my ingenious old brain."