“Another admirer?” asked Thalia Drummond with a lift of her perfect eyebrows, and Macroy’s face darkened.
“There’ll be none of that, you understand, Drummond,” she said decisively. “This fellow and I are sort of—engaged.”
“Heaven forbid,” said Thalia Drummond piously, “that I should come between two loving hearts.”
“And you needn’t be sarcastic either,” said Macroy, redder still. “I tell you that there’s to be no lovey-dovey stuff in this. It’s real business, you understand?”
Thalia played with her paper-knife. Presently she asked:
“Suppose I don’t want to come into your combination?”
Milly Macroy looked suspiciously at the girl.
“Come and have a bit of dinner after the bank closes,” she said.
“Nothing but invitations to dinner,” murmured Thalia and the nimble-witted Milly Macroy jumped at the truth.
“The old boy asked you to dinner, did he?” she demanded. “Well, ain’t that luck!” She whistled and her eyes brightened. She was about to offer a confidence, but changed her mind. “He’s got loads of money out of money-lending. My dear, I can see you with a diamond necklace in a week or two!”
Thalia straightened herself and took up her pen.
“Pearls are my weakness,” she said. “All right, Macroy, I’ll see you tonight,” and she went on working.
Milly Macroy lingered.
“Look here, you’re not going to tell this gentleman what I said about my being engaged to him, are you?”
“There’s Brab’s bell,” said Thalia, rising and taking up her notebook as a buzzer sounded. “No, I’m not going to discuss anything of the kind—I hate fairy stories anyway.”
Miss Macroy looked after the retreating figure of the girl with an expression which was not friendly.
Mr. Brabazon was sitting at his desk when the girl came in, and handed her a sealed envelope.
“Send this by hand,” he said.
Thalia looked at the address and nodded, and then looked at Mr. Brabazon with a new interest. Truly the Crimson Circle was recruited from many and various classes.
XV
Thalia Joins the Gang
Thalia Drummond was almost the last of the staff to leave the bank that night, and she stood on the steps looking idly from left to right as she pulled on her gloves. If she saw the man who was watching her from the opposite side of the road she did not reveal the fact by so much as a glance. Presently her eyes lighted upon Milly waiting a few yards up the street, and she walked toward her.
“You’ve been a long time, Drummond,” grumbled Miss Macroy. “You mustn’t keep my friend waiting, you know. He doesn’t like it.”
“He’ll get over that,” said Thalia. “I do not run to timetable where men are concerned.”
She fell in by Milly’s side and they walked a hundred yards along the busy thoroughfare before they turned into Reeder Street.
The restaurants in Reeder Street have taken to themselves names which are designed to suggest the gaiety and epicurean wonders of Paris. The “Moulin Gris” was a small, deep shop which, with the aid of numerous mirrors and the application of gold leaf, had managed to create an atmosphere of cramped splendour.
The tables were set for dinner and empty, for it was two hours before the meal, and to the proprietors of the “Moulin Gris” such a function as afternoon tea was unknown. They went up a narrow stairway to another dining-room on the first floor, and a man who was seated at one of the tables rose briskly to meet them. He was a sleek, dark, young man, his beautifully brilliantined hair was brushed back from his forehead, and he was dressed, if not in the height of fashion, at least in the height of the fashion which he favoured.
A faint odour of l’origan, a soft large hand, a pair of bright unwinking eyes, were the first impressions which Thalia received.
“Sit down, sit down, Miss Drummond,” he said brightly. “Waiter, bring that tea.”
“This is Thalia Drummond,” said Miss Macroy, unnecessarily it seemed.
“We needn’t be introduced,” laughed the young man. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Miss Drummond. My name’s Barnet.”
“ ‘Flush’ Barnet,” said Thalia, and he seemed surprised and not ill-pleased.
“You’ve heard of me, have you?”
“She’s heard of everything,” said Miss Macroy in resignation, “and what’s more,” she added significantly, “she knows Marl, and is dining with him tonight.”
Barnet looked sharply from one to the other, then back again at Milly Macroy.
“Have you told her anything?” he asked. There was a note of menace in his voice.
“You don’t have to tell her anything,” said Miss Macroy recklessly. “She knows it all!”
“Did you tell her?” he repeated.
“About Marl? No, I thought you’d tell her that.”
The waiter brought the tea at that moment and there was a silence until he had gone.
“Now, I’m a plainspoken man,” said “Flush” Barnet. “And I’m going to tell you what I call you.”
“This sounds interesting,” said the girl, never taking her eyes from his face.
“I call you Thorough-Bad Thalia. How’s that? Good, eh?” said Mr. Barnet, leaning back in his chair and surveying her. “Thorough-Bad Thalia! You’re a naughty girl! I was in court the day old Froyant charged you with pinching!”
He shook his head waggishly.
“You’re as full of information as last year’s almanac,” said Thalia Drummond coolly. “I suppose you didn’t bring me here to exchange compliments?”
“No, I didn’t,” admitted “Flush” Barnet, and the jealous Miss Macroy recognised, by certain signs, the fascination that the girl was casting over her lover. “I brought you here to talk business. We’re all friends here, and we’re all in the same old business. I want to tell you straight away that I’m not one of your little thieving crooks, who lives from hand to mouth.”
He spoke very correctly, but aspirated his “h’s” just a trifle heavily Thalia duly
