Mr. Zero Read Online Free PDF Page B

to go to blazes—they just can’t.”
    Algy’s agreeable features took on an expression of gravity.
    â€œI think they had better try,” he said. “And if they can’t manage it themselves, I think they had better go to the police. After all, that’s what the police are for, you know.”
    â€œThat’s all very well,” said Gay, “but suppose the blackmailer wouldn’t go to blazes, and you couldn’t go to the police.”
    â€œWhy couldn’t you?” said Algy quickly.
    Gay looked serious too.
    â€œThe thing you were being blackmailed about might be the sort of thing you couldn’t go and chat about to a policeman.”
    Algy began to feel dreadfully perturbed.
    â€œLook here, is this a hypothetical case, or is somebody blackmailing you?”
    Gay flashed into brilliance. Her eyes sparkled, and the red flags danced in a brisk, angry breeze.
    â€œWhat do you think I’ve done?”
    â€œI didn’t think you’d done anything.”
    â€œWell, you don’t get blackmailed for nothing—do you?”
    â€œI don’t know—I’ve never tried.”
    â€œNor have I!”
    There was anger between them under the wordplay—quick cut and thrust of anger, quick unreasoning cut and thrust. It surprised them both. It surprised Gay so much that she caught her breath and said,
    â€œWe’re quarrelling. I don’t know why. We’ve never quarrelled before.”
    â€œIt’s never too late to mend.” He looked at her with laughing eyes. “You’re awfully funny to quarrel with.”
    â€œFunny?”
    â€œLike a robin pecking.”
    â€œRobins are fierce. They fight like anything.”
    â€œAll right, I’ll be careful. Let’s get back to the blackmailer. What does he want? It’s absolutely fatal to start giving money. The horse-leech isn’t in it—the more you give, the more he’ll want, and the more he’ll get. Seriously, Gay, if you know anyone who is being blackmailed, tell them that.”
    â€œIt isn’t money—he doesn’t want money.”
    â€œWhat is it then?”
    Gay’s lively colour died. She looked uncertain, pale, frightened.
    â€œI don’t think I can tell you. It’s something—it might be something dreadful.”
    â€œGay!”
    She jumped up. The music was stopping—just in time—just in time—just in time. For what had she been going to say? And why was it so dreadfully easy to say things to Algy? It scared her. She spoke a little breathlessly.
    â€œCome along with me and meet Sylvia if you want to. She’ll be snapped up in a second.”
    Sylvia looked surprised and pleased when Gay slipped a hand under her arm.
    â€œGay— darling! How did you get here?”
    Gay’s other hand indicated the slightly abashed Mr. Somers.
    â€œHe brought me. He’s one of the kind hearts, and it was his scout deed for the day. His name is Algy Somers, and as a reward he would like very much to dance with you. Algy—Lady Colesborough. He knows Francis—a little.”
    â€œI don’t think—” began Sylvia. Then she met Algy’s admiring gaze and wavered. “Mr. Brewster—and then I’m dancing with Mr. Wessex-Gardner—”
    â€œI shouldn’t,” said Algy—“I really, really shouldn’t. I know seventeen women in London who are crippled for life because they were reckless enough to dance with him. He’s a confirmed toe-treader and ankle-kicker. He’s known at his club as the Bonesetter’s Friend. Brewster, this is Miss Gay Hardwicke, and she will be kind enough to give you the next dance if you ask her very nicely.” He gazed at Sylvia, offered her his arm, and when after a moment of indecision she took it, he bore her away in triumph, leaving behind him a darkly annoyed Mr. Brewster, and Gay Hardwicke, who smiled prettily and