“Certainly, sir.”
The man withdrew and once more Thomson and the dog were alone. The latter, having made a few overtures of friendship which passed unnoticed, resumed his slumbers. Major Thomson sat upright in his easy-chair, an illustrated paper in his hand. All the time, however, his eyes seemed to be searching the room. His sense of listening was obviously quickened; he had the air, even, of thinking rapidly. Five—ten minutes passed. Then voices were heard from within and the door was suddenly opened. Captain Granet emerged and crossed the room, hobbling slightly towards his visitor.
“Awfully sorry to keep you like this,” he remarked pleasantly. “The fact is I’d just got into my bath.”
“I ought to apologise,” his visitor replied, “for calling at such a time.”
“Glad to see you, anyway,” the other declared, pausing at his smoking-cabinet and bringing out some cigarettes. “Try one of these, won’t you?”
“Not just now, thanks.”
There was a moment’s pause. Major Thomson seemed in no hurry to explain himself.
“Jolly luncheon party, wasn’t it?” Granet remarked, lighting a cigarette for himself with some difficulty. “What an idiot it makes a fellow feel to be strapped up like this!”
“From what one reads of the fighting around Ypres,” the other replied, “you were lucky to get out of it so well. Let me explain, if I may, why I have paid you this rather untimely call.”
Captain Granet nodded amiably. He had made himself comfortable in an easy-chair and was playing with the dog, who had jumped on to his knee.