“Half-past twelve,” said Colin, adding on another half-hour. He wanted to get rid of his uncle and see how he stood with his brother. No doubt they would have a row.
“Gobbless me,” said Ronald. “I shall turn in. Just a spot more whisky. Good night, boys.”
As soon as he had gone Raymond got out of his chair and placed himself where he could get his heels on the edge of the low fender-kerb. He hated talking “up” to Colin, and this gave him a couple of inches.
“I want to ask you something,” he said.
“Ask away,” said Colin.
“Did you know I was in the room when you imitated me just now?”
“Hadn’t given a thought to it,” said Colin.
“It’s equally offensive whether you mimic me before my face or behind my back,” said Raymond. “It was damned rude.”
“Shall I come to you for lessons in manners?” asked Colin. “What do you charge?”
Colin spoke with all the lightness of good-humoured banter, well aware that if Raymond replied at all, he would make some sledge-hammer rejoinder. He would swing a cudgel against the rapier that pricked him, yet never land a blow except on the air, or, maybe, his own foot.