As if Colin had read Raymond’s thought of going to bed, he turned to Violet.
“I may be a little late to-night, darling,” he said. “Raymond and I are going to have a long talk in the smoking-room.”
“Oh, I think not,” said Raymond. “I’m tired; I shall go to bed.”
Colin whisked round to him. “Not just yet, Ray,” he said. “I haven’t seen you for so long. It would be nice of you to come and have a chat. I know you will. Persuade him to do as I ask, Vi. Who knows what important things I may have to tell about?”
Philip rejoined them. “I shall just come in and have a cigarette with you boys,” he said. “Good-night, Violet.”
“Ah, that’s jolly,” said Colin.
They preceded him to the smoking-room, for he turned into his own room a moment, and as soon as they were there Colin shut the door.
“Father will be with us in a minute,” he said, “and I can only just begin my talk. But if you attempt to go to bed when he does, Raymond, I shall tell him about the morning when you shot pigeons. Oddly enough, I have remembered all about it. And to-morrow I’ll telephone for the envelope I left at my bank. So it’s up to you.”
Colin came a step closer; with such an eagerness must some Borgia Pope have looked on the white skin of the victim he had ordered to be flayed.
“It’s jolly seeing you again, you sulky blackguard,” he said. “Has anybody smacked your face since I did it for you? You’re going to spend the whole of the vacation here, unless I get tired of you and send you away before. Ah, there’s father. Isn’t it jolly, father; Raymond hopes to spend the whole of the vacation here.”