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"What's the big idea?" she asked. "I mistrust you, Julius, when you get affectionate. Am I to go and smash his safe, or what?"
He eyed her steadily. Then:
"I know a place—Sao Paulo—where a man can live like a prince on the interest of a hundred thousand dollars. And that is just the amount the old devil is going to pay me; perhaps more. Garre Castle has a secret, Fay. It may be a hundred thousand pound secret. And if the worse comes to the worst, I have a little bottle of invisible ink that will certainly be worth twenty thousand."
Julius was a lover of cryptic language, and enjoyed the mystification on his wife's face.
CHAPTER VI
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Do-Nothing Featherstone
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The immaculate young man who had been the third of Howett's luncheon-party was older than his pink, boyish face betrayed. Valerie Howett had guessed that the day her father had introduced him. To Valerie he was at first an object of mild interest. In her travels with her father, whose interests took him frequently to America, she had met in Chicago and in New York, in every big city of the United States, the pampered sons of foolish fathers, boys who had no other thought in life than the destruction of the hours that separated them from their more lurid amusements. She knew the limitations of their interests, which usually vacillated between their fast cars and slow parties; but for the first time she was meeting the English variety of the genus.