Mr. Rocke was apparently a little nonplussed. The absolute imperturbability of the man who had once been his friend was disconcerting.
“Well,” he said, “the governor sent me instead of coming himself, because he thought that I might be more useful to you. London changes so quickly—you would hardly know your way about now. I should like you to come and dine with me tonight, and I’ll take you round anywhere you care to go; and then if you don’t want to go back to your old tradespeople, I could take you to my tailor and bookmaker.”
“Is that all?” Wingrave asked calmly.
Rocke was again taken aback.
“Certainly not,” he answered. “There must be many ways in which I could be useful to you, but I can’t think of them all at once. I am here to serve you professionally or as a friend, to the best of my ability. Can you suggest anything yourself? What do you want?”
“That is the question,” Wingrave said, “which I have been asking myself. Unfortunately, up to now, I have not been able to answer it. Regarding myself, however, from the point of view of a third party, I should say that the thing I was most in need of was the society of my fellow creatures.”
“Exactly,” Rocke declared. “That is what I thought you would say! It won’t take us long to arrange something of the sort for you.”
“Can you put me up,” Wingrave asked, “at your club, and introduce me to your friends there?”
Rocke flinched before the steady gaze of those cold enquiring eyes, in which he fancied, too, that a gleam of malice shone. The color mounted to his cheeks. It was a most embarrassing situation.
“I can introduce you to some decent fellows, of course, and to some very charming ladies,” he said hesitatingly, “but as to the club—I—well, don’t you think yourself that it would scarcely be wise to—”