Barnes hurried to open the front door before Michael had taken the key from his pocket, and was not at all surprised to see him.
“Here, I couldn’t get down to the Orange to-night. I’ve had a bit of trouble with this girl.”
The gas was flaring in the sitting-room by now, and the night, which outside had been lightening for dawn, was black as ink upon the panes.
“Sit on the bed. The chairs are all full of her dirty clothes. I’ll pull the blinds down. I’m going to leave here to-morrow, Fane. Did you see her going down the road? She must have passed you by. I tell you straight, Fane, half an hour back I was in two minds to do her in. I was, straight. And I would have, if ... Oh, well, I kept my temper and threw her out instead. Gratitude! It’s my belief gratitude doesn’t exist in this world. You sit down and have a smoke. He left some cigarettes behind.”
“Who did?” Michael asked sharply.
“Who did what?”
“Left these cigarettes.”
“Oh, they’re some I bought yesterday,” said Barnes.
“I think it’s just as well for you that you are going to-morrow morning. I hope you quite realize that otherwise I should have turned you out.”
“Well, don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” Barnes protested. “I’ve had quite enough to worry me without any nastiness between old friends to make it worse.”