When Piers came out of his room ten minutes later with a coat over his arm he came face to face with him in the corridor. There was a certain grimness apparent about Crowther also by that time. He offered no explanation of his presence, although quite obviously he was waiting.
Piers stood still. There was a dangerous glitter in his eyes that came and went. "Look here, Crowther!" he said. "It's no manner of use your attempting this game with me. I'm going out, and—whether you like it or not, I don't care a damn—I'm going alone."
"Where are you going?" said Crowther.
"To the Casino," Piers flung the words with a gleam of clenched teeth.
Crowther looked at him straight and hard. "What for?" he asked.
"What do people generally go for?" Piers prepared to move on as he uttered the question.
But Crowther deliberately blocked his way. "No, Piers," he said quietly.
"You're not going to-night."
The blood rose in a great wave to Piers' forehead. His eyes shone suddenly red. "Do you think you're going to stop me?" he said.
"For to-night, sonny—yes." Quite decidedly Crowther made reply. "To-morrow you will be your own master. But to-night—well, you've had a bit of a knock out; you're off your balance. Don't go to-night!"
He spoke with earnest appeal, but he still blocked the passage squarely, stoutly, immovably.