“Meet then if you like. I shan’t be here. I’m going fishing with Lechworthy. You know my views. The members of the Exiles’ Club should disperse deviously, and as soon as Smith’s rotten schooners can take them. As to the winding-up of the club, I’m content to leave it in your hands, Sweetling.”
“So in a crisis like this you find it amusing to go fishing,” said the Rev. Cyril Mast with offensive bitterness.
“Fishing is an occupation,” said Pryce. “Pitching idiots through windows is another occupation and it’s difficult to keep off it sometimes.”
“Order, please,” said Sir John. “These suggestions of violence are most improper. At the same time you, Mr Mast, are the very last person who should venture to offer any criticism. Now, gentlemen, as to the date of the next meeting. What do you think, Mr Hanson?”
“This day week,” said Hanson. “By that time we may know more—or other things may have happened.”
“I can be here then,” said Pryce.
The date was agreed upon, and Pryce came out into the hall. He was going to walk back to the King’s house, and he thought he would take a drink first. In the hall Lord Charles Baringstoke came up to him with Herr Mandelbaum in attendance.
“Oh, I say,” said Lord Charles. “I’ve got my money now, you know. And I’ve got a lizard I’d like to back against yours—or against the clock if you like.”
“Well,” said Pryce, “can’t a man have a drink first?”