Hammond bowed kindly.
“I promise.”
The footman appeared outside.
“Show Mr. Yorke out.”
Mr. Yorke, regaining his dignity, made his exit in state, leaving the two men looking at each other.
“By Jove! that was a little trump!” Mauleverer burst out as the door closed. “Not much the matter with the modern child, after all.”
Hammond nodded as he cast himself wearily into a chair.
“Do you mind going now, old man?” he said, bluntly.
Mauleverer sprang up with a sudden recollection, hurried out on to the pavement, hailed the nearest cab, and dashed off to Berkeley Square.