The Great Christmas Ball Read Online Free PDF

long as you like, Lord Costain,” Gordon said. “I shall run along to my club for dinner, and see if I recognize the intruder.”
    Gordon was loathe to leave the office, but there were matters to attend to. He had to make some excuse to Mama for going out to dinner on such a night, and he wished to rag his valet into trying that dandy cravat knot Lord Costain was wearing. He set down his glass and rose. “Well, are you all set, Cathy?”
    “Yes.” She joined him. “I look forward to seeing you this evening, milord.”
    Costain took her hand and smiled into her eyes. “The hours will go on crutches until we meet again.”
    They left. Little conversation was exchanged during the walk home. It was not the wind whipping their coats and whistling in their ears that inhibited talk. Each was wrapped up in private reveries.
    * * *
    Costain sunk into his chair and stared glumly at their empty glasses. What had he done? He had saddled himself with a pair of youngsters who might take into their heads to tell the world of their great spying career if he did not keep a tight rein on them.
    Honesty required him to admit, however, that it was entirely his own fault. It was he who had catapulted them into danger, and it was he who must ensure their safety as well as their discretion. He allowed they had been helpful thus far. It was kind of Miss Lyman to let him know he had been followed. Who could it be?
     Burack, the quiet man who occupied the office next to his own, and made such a parade of performing his job with efficiency? Or was it Cosgrave’s right-hand man, Harold Leonard, hired especially by Cosgrave for the job? Or was it a genuine French spy, as the Lymans thought? The French might have been following Jones, seen him come to the translation service, and kept an eye on anyone leaving immediately after. He would drop around at St. James’s Park at midnight to see if anyone showed up, though he did not think it at all likely.
    * * *
    On King Charles Street, Lady Lyman was in a decided pelter. Her offsprings’ absence had been discovered, and she was waiting for them in her comfortable chair by the grate when they returned. Her cap of gray lace jiggled with annoyance. The same emotion drew her full face into an expression of petulance.
    “Darting out without telling me, with the wind howling and the snow coming down in buckets. You have totally destroyed those good slippers, Cathy, to say nothing of wasting a very good tea. What was so important it could not wait?”
    “Told you,” Gordon said. “An accident at the corner. A rig overturned. I cannot imagine you did not hear it. You must be deaf as a doornail, Mama. If that team ain’t lamed, it is more than I know.”
    “I knew there would be an accident sooner or later,” Lady Lyman said with satisfaction. “It is a shame the way drivers are allowed to careen about the streets. You’d best run up and dress for dinner, the pair of you.”
    “I will be eating out tonight, Mama,” Gordon said. “Met a school chum—he was looking at the accident, too. The whole world was there—the ghouls.”
    “We also met Lord Costain,” Cathy said. “He asked if he might drop in this evening.”
    The word Lord had a benign effect on Lady Lyman’s mood. “Ah! Now, who, exactly, is Lord Costain? The name is not familiar. An earl, or a marquess?” She looked to her son, assuming the acquaintance had been made through him.
    “A baron. The Duke of Halford’s third son. He was in the Peninsula.”
    “The Duke of Halford’s son?” She nearly jumped from her chair in delight. “Why did you not say so? What time is he coming? Cathy, run up and have Margold do something with your hair. You look for the world as if you had been on a sailing ship. Gordon, I did not know you knew Lord Costain. How did you meet him?”
    “Why, you may meet him anywhere.”
    “Yes, but where?”
    Cathy escaped gratefully upstairs, and left Gordon to invent an answer. She selected her toilette