"I was thinking, how about lunch? Come along with me if you have nothing better to do."
George accepted and put forward the names of one or two restaurants.
"No," said Wimsey, "I've got a fancy to go to Gatti's to-day, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, that will do splendidly. I've seen Murbles, by the bye, and he's prepared to deal with the MacStewart man. He thinks he can hold him off till it's all settled up—if it ever is settled."
"That's good," said Wimsey, rather absently.
"And I'm damned glad about this chance of a job," went on George. "If it turns out any good, it'll make things a lot easier—in more than one way."
Wimsey said heartily that he was sure it would, and then relapsed into a silence unusual with him, which lasted all the way to the Strand.
At Gatti's he left George in a corner while he went to have a chat with the head waiter, emerging from the interview with a puzzled expression which aroused even George's curiosity, full as he was of his own concerns.
"What's up? Isn't there anything you can bear to eat?"
"It's all right. I was just wondering whether to have moules marinières or not."