What would she be demanding of him as a reparation? He was always sifting
this query about, now on this side, now on that, without getting anywhere.
Not money. What then?
That night both Jane and Dennison came in to dinner. Cleigh saw instantly
that something was amiss. The boy's face was gloomy and his lips locked,
and the girl's mouth was set and cheerless. Cleigh was fired by curiosity
to ascertain the trouble, but here again was an impasse.
"I'm sorry I spoke so roughly last night," said Dennison, unexpectedly.
"And I am sorry that I answered you so sharply. But all this worry and
fuss over me is getting on my nerves. You've written down Cunningham as a
despicable rogue, when he is only an interesting one. If only you would
give banter for banter, you might take some of the wind out of his sails.
But instead you go about as if the next hour was to be our last!"
"Who knows?"
"There you go! In a minute we'll be digging up the hatchet again."
But she softened the reproach by smiling. At this moment Cunningham came
in briskly and cheerfully. He sat down, threw the napkin across his knees,
and sent an ingratiating smile round the table.
"Cleigh"--he was always talking to Cleigh, and apparently not minding in
the least that he was totally ignored--"Cleigh, they are doing a good job
in the Santa Maria delle Grazie, so I am told. Milan, of course. They are
restoring Da Vinci's Cenacolo. What called it to mind is the fact that
this is also the last supper. To-morrow at this hour you will be in
possession and I'll be off for my pearls."
The recipients of this remarkable news appeared petrified for a space.
Cunningham enjoyed the astonishment.
"Sounds almost too good to be true, doesn't it? Still, it's a fact."
"That's tiptop news, Cunningham," said Dennison. "I hope when you go down
the ladder you break your infernal neck. But the luck is on your side."
"Let us hope that it stays there," replied Cunningham, unruffled. He
turned to Cleigh again: "I say, we've always been bewailing that job of Da
Vinci's. But the old boy was a seer. He knew that some day there would be
American millionaires and that I'd become a force in art. So he put his
subject on a plaster wall so I couldn't lug it off. A canvas the same
size, I don't say; but the side of a church!"