Richard became very silent, very still. He realised that Jack would like to give him a thrashing. The thought was horrible to Richard Lovat, who could never bear to be touched, physically. And the other man sitting there as if he were drunk was very repugnant to him. It was a bad moment.
“Why,” he replied, in answer to the question, while Jack’s eyes fixed him with a sort of jeering malevolence: “I can’t honestly say I feel at one with you, you and Kangaroo, so I say so, and stand aside.”
“You’ve found out all you wanted to know, I suppose?” said Jack.
“I didn’t want to know anything. I didn’t come asking or seeking. It was you who chose to tell me.”
“You didn’t try drawing us out, in your own way?”
“Why, no, I don’t think so.”
Again Jack looked up at him with a faint contemptuous smile of derision.
“I should have said myself you did. And you got what you wanted, and now are clearing out with it. Exactly like a spy, in my opinion.”
Richard opened wide eyes, and went pale.
“A spy!” he exclaimed. “But it’s just absurd.”