“I’m going to tell you the facts.” Gordon had to struggle with himself; he was on the point of inventing an excuse for calling and making a hasty retreat.
“Is it about Diana?”
“No, it isn’t about Diana,” snapped the elder. “Diana has nothing whatever to do with it. It is like this—old man....”
The “old man” sobered Bobbie. It showed that his brother was not his normal self. So he listened without interruption to the lamest story he had ever heard; to the most transparent invention that had yet been displayed for the scorn of sceptic.
“Who is Mrs. van Oynne?” he asked at last.
“She’s ... well, I don’t want to discuss her. I met her at a conversazione of the Theosophical Society. She’s rather ... wonderful.”
“I should say so,” said Bobbie drily. “Of course you won’t go?”
It needed but this piece of assurance to decide Gordon.
“Of course I shall go,” he said firmly. “I need the change; I need the intellectual recreation.”
“But why go to Ostend to discuss souls? What’s the matter with Battersea Park?” insisted Bobbie. “It’s the most lunatic idea I have heard! And of course, if you’re spotted in Ostend your name for henceforth and everlasting will be Waste Product Esquire. I suppose you’re telling the truth. From any other man I wouldn’t think twice about it; I’d know that it was a clumsy lie. Have you thought of Diana?”