CHAPTER XVIII
JEFF LEGGE reclined in a long cane chair on a lawn which stretched to the edge of a cliff. Before him were the blue waters of the Channel, and the more gorgeous blue of an unflecked sky. He reached out his hand and took a glass that stood on the table by his side, sipped it with a wry face and called a name pettishly.
It was Lila who came running to his side.
"Take this stuff away, and bring me a whisky-and-soda," he said.
"The doctor said you weren't to have anything but lime juice. Oh, Jeff, you must do as he tells you," she pleaded.
"I'll break your head for you when I get up," he snarled. "Do as you're told.
Where's the governor?"
"He's gone into the village to post some letters."
He ruminated on this, and then:
"If that busy comes, you can tell him I'm too ill t
