Suddenly there came a check. The cigarette had ceased to draw. He ground his teeth on it, turned, and spat it into the flames. It hissed and vanished.
Then Jake abruptly lifted his clenched hands above, his head and swore a frightful oath that comprehended himself, the world, and all things in it, in one vast anathema.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE IMPOSSIBLE
"Say, Jake, are you going to spend the night downstairs?" Bunny's thin, eager face peered round the door with the words. He slipped into the room clad in pyjamas, his hair all ruffled on his forehead.
Jake was sitting before a burnt-out fire. He looked round at Bunny with heavy eyes.
"Were you asleep?" said Bunny.
"No." He got up stiffly. "Just--thinking. What have you come down for?"
Bunny glanced at the clock. "Why, you said you'd come and see me in bed, and it's long past midnight. I've been lying awake for ages." He pressed close to Jake, reproach mingling with a touch of apprehension in his eyes. "Fact is,--I--wanted to tell you something. But I've got cold now. I don't know that I shall, after all."
Jake put a hand on his shoulder. "I shouldn't, my son," he said. "I should cut back to bed if I were you. I give you a free pardon, whatever it is. There! Good night!"