THE BRAVE PRESERVER
XI
I could have wished, during the next few days, that Mr. Harry Hawk's
attitude toward myself had not been so unctuously confidential and
mysterious. It was unnecessary, in my opinion, for him to grin
meaningly whenever he met me in the street. His sly wink when we
passed each other on the Cob struck me as in indifferent taste. The
thing had been definitely arranged (half down and half when it was
over), and there was no need for any cloak and dark-lantern effects. I
objected strongly to being treated as the villain of a melodrama. I
was merely an ordinary well-meaning man, forced by circumstances into
doing the work of Providence. Mr. Hawk's demeanor seemed to say:
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