Desmond called to
her, remembering that he did not yet know where his bedroom was.
"Will you light me up to my room, Martha?" he said, "I want to be
sure that the sheets are not damp!"
So saying he extinguished the lamp on the table and followed the
old woman upstairs.
CHAPTER XII. AT THE MILL HOUSE
Clad in a suit of Mr. Basil Bellward's pyjamas of elaborate
blue-flowered silk, Desmond lay propped up in bed in Mr.
Bellward's luxuriously fitted bedroom, sipping his morning
coffee, and studying with absorbed interest a sheet of blue
foolscap. A number of papers lay strewn about the eiderdown
quilt. At the head of the bed a handsome Sheraton bureau stood
open.
As the French say, Mr. Bellward had refused himself nothing. His
bedroom was most tastefully furnished. The furniture was
mahogany, every piece carefully chosen, and the chintz of
curtains and upholstery was bright and attractive. A most
elaborate mahogany wardrobe was fitted into the wall, and
Desmond, investigating it, had found it to contain a very large
assortment of clothes of every description, all new or nearly so,
and bearing the name of a famous tailor of Cork Street. Folding
doors, resembling a cupboard, disclosed, when open, a marble
basin with hot water laid on, while a curtained door in the
corner of the room gave access to a white tiled bathroom.
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