“You can tell him—” Rounceby began.
“No message, thanks!” Marnstam interrupted. “We shall probably run across him ourselves to-morrow.”
John Dory was nearly a quarter of an hour late. After his third useless summons, Mr. Peter Ruff presented himself again.
“I am afraid,” he said, “you will not find my neighbour at home. There have been several people enquiring for him to-night, without any result.”
John Dory came slowly across the landing.
“Good evening, Mr. Ruff!” he said.
“Why, it’s Mr. Dory!” Peter Ruff declared. “Come in, do, and have a drink.”
John Dory accepted the invitation, and his eyes were busy in that little sitting room during the few minutes which it took his host to mix that whisky and soda.
“Nothing wrong with our friend opposite, I hope?” Peter Ruff asked, jerking his head across the landing.
“I hope not, Mr. Ruff,” John Dory said. “No doubt in the morning he will be able to explain everything. I must say that I should like to see him to-night, though.”