"Sorry, Bill," he apologized. "My nerves are on edge. Your constant tapping and fidgeting about—"
"Tapping?" said Bill with an air of complete surprise.
"Tapping on the shelves, and humming. Sorry. It got on my nerves."
"My dear old chap, I'm awfully sorry. I'll go out in the hall."
"It's all right," said Cayley, and went on with his letter. Bill sat down in his chair again. Had Antony understood? Well, anyhow, there was nothing to do now but wait for Cayley to go. "And if you ask me," said Bill to himself, much pleased, "I ought to be on the stage. That's where I ought to be. The complete actor."
A minute, two minutes, three minutes.... five minutes. It was safe now. Antony had guessed.
"Is the car there?" asked Cayley, as he sealed up his letter.
Bill strolled into the hall, called back "Yes," and went out to talk to the chauffeur. Cayley joined him, and they stood there for a moment.
"Hallo," said a pleasant voice behind them. They turned round and saw Antony.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Bill."
With a tremendous effort Bill restrained his feelings, and said casually enough that it was all right.
