Terry's eyes grew round.
"Oh, Shorty!" she cried, but Mike patted him on the back.
"It's quite all right," he said. "You heard me say 'Have no alarm.' Will the public never learn that if they have Mycroft Cardinal in their corner, Fate cannot touch them?"
"You have a plan?" said Terry.
"I have a plan. Shorty will accompany us to Dottyville-on-the-Pacific."
"Of course!"
"I must try to break you of that habit of yours of saying 'Of course!' when
I put forward one of my brilliant solutions, as if you had been on the point of thinking of it yourself."
"Sorry, my king."
"Okey-doke, my queen."
"Where is Dottyville-on-the-Pacific?" asked Lord Shortlands.
"A little west of Los Angeles," said Mike. "It is sometimes known as Hollywood. We shall be starting thither almost any day now. Just got to get married and fix up your passport and so on. Pack a few necessaries and sneak off to your club and wait there for further instructions. I will attend to all the financial arrangements."
"My dear boy!"
"What an organizer! He thinks of everything, doesn't he?" said Terry.
"He does, indeed," said Lord Shortlands.
"And when we get to Hollywood," said Mike, "if you feel like making a little spending money, I think I can put you in the way of it. I don't know if you ever noticed it, my dear Shorty, but you are a particularly good butler type."
"A butlei type?"
Terry squeaked.
"All these years," she said, "I've been trying to think what Shorty reminded me of, and now I know. Of course, darling, you look exactly like a butler."
"Do I?" said Lord Shortlands.
"Exactly," said Terry.
"And for such," proceeded Mike, "there is a constant demand. I cannot hold out hope of stardom, of course; just a nice, steady living. Say 'Very good, m'lord.'"
"Very good, m'lord."
"Perfect. What artistry! You will be a great asset to the silver screen. And now we must leave you. My future wife wishes to show me the rose garden."
"Haven't you seen it?"
"Not with her," said Mike.
For some moments after he found himself alone, Lord Shortlands stood motionless, gazing into the golden future. Then, walking jerkily, for he was still enfeebled, he moved to the mirror and peered into it.
"Very good, m'lord," he said, extending his elbows at right angles. "Very good, m'lord."
A look of satisfaction came into his face. Butler parts would be pie.
Mervyn Spink came silently in, and Lord Shortlands, seeing him in the mirror, turned. As these two strong men, linked by the bond of thwarted love, faced each other, there was a silence. Mervyn Spink was feeling that Lord Shortlands was not such a bad old buster, after all, and Lord Shortlands was feeling strangely softened towards Mervyn Spink.
"You have heard, m'lord?"
Lord Shortlands nodded.
"A nasty knock, m'lord."
"Very nasty."
"We must face it like men, m'lord."
"You betcher. Be British."
Mervyn Spink coughed.
"If your lordship would care for a drop of something to take your lordship's mind off it, I have the materials in my pantry."
Lord Shortlands moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. The suggestion was a very welcome one. It astounded him to think that he could ever have disliked this St. Bernard dog among butlers.
"Lead me to it, Spink."
"This way, m'lord."
"Don't call me 'm'lord.'"
"This way, Shortlands."
"Don't call me 'Shortlands,'" said the fifth earl. "Call me Shorty."
He put his hand in his new friend's arm, and they went out.