Ayre was silent a moment. Morewood's letter told him that Stafford had set out to go to Claudia. What if he and Eugene met? Ayre had not much faith in the power of friendship under such circumstances.
"I think, on the whole, that I'd better show you a letter I've had," he said. "Mind you, I take no responsibility for what you do."
"Nobody wants you to," said Eugene, with a smile. "We all understand that's your position."
Ayre flung the letter over to him and he read it.
"Oh, by Jove, this is the devil!" he exclaimed, jumping off the writing-table, where he had seated himself.
"So Morewood seems to think."
"Poor old fellow! I say, what shall I do? Poor old Stafford! Fancy his cutting up like this."
"It's kind of you to pity him."
"What do you mean? I say, Ayre, you don't think there is anything in it?"
"Anything in it?"