"Is that you, Jesson?" he said. "No thanks. I gave up billiards long ago."
Douglas remained by his side.
"They tell me," he remarked, "that two years ago you were the best player in the club. Why don't you keep it up?"
"Lost interest," was the brief reply. "You can't do things well that you don't care about, can you?"
Douglas forgot to answer. He was aware that his companion was watching some one—a shabby, wan figure leaning over the palisading which bordered the terrace below. His own heart gave a throb. He knew at once who it was.
"David!" he exclaimed.
Drexley turned upon him sharply.
"You know him?"
Douglas nodded.
"Yes," he said. "It is David Strong. He is mad."