“I do,” Fenn assented, taking up his hat. “Come, I’ll drive towards Bermondsey with you. We’ll talk on the way.”
CHAPTER XIII
Julian raised himself slightly from his recumbent position at the sound of the opening of the door. He watched Fenn with dull, incurious eyes as the latter crossed the uncarpeted floor of the bare wooden shed, threw off his overcoat, and advanced towards the side of the couch.
“Sit up a little,” the newcomer directed.
Julian shook his head.
“No strength,” he muttered. “If I had, I should wring your damned neck!”
Fenn looked down at him for a moment in silence.
“You take this thing very hardly, Mr. Orden,” he said. “I think that you had better give up this obstinacy. Your friends are getting anxious about you. For many reasons it would be better for you to reappear.”
“There will be a little anxiety on the part of your friends about you,” Julian retorted grimly, “if ever I do get out of this accursed place.”