Unconsciously he quickened his steps. Somehow the danger had always seemed remote until that night. Had the day's adventure unsettled his nerves, or had he hitherto always underrated it? How ghastly it would be if—His thoughts broke off short. A figure had detached itself from the vagueness in front of him, and a whiff of rank tobacco smoke came suddenly to his nostrils.
Noel straightened himself and quickened his stride. He had the soldier's instinct for making the most of his height. The square, lounging figure that sauntered towards him looked almost short by comparison.
They met about fifty yards from the dâk-bungalow. "Hullo!" said Max.
His tone was coolly fraternal, but his hand came out at the same time and Noel remembered the grip of it for some minutes after.
"What on earth have you come out here for?" he said.
Max smoked a pipe in one corner of his mouth and smiled with the other.
"Like the girls," he said, "I've come out to get married."
"You're not going to marry Olga!" said Noel quickly and fiercely.
"That's just what I want to talk to you about," said Max. "Shall we walk?" He took his brother by the arm and led him forward. "I thought a talk in the open would be preferable. My hutch in this beastly little inn is not precisely inviting. I go to Nick's bungalow to-morrow."
"The devil you do!" said Noel.
The hand on his arm was not removed. It closed very slowly and surely. "Look here, old chap," Max said, "say what you like to me and welcome, if it does you any good. But there is no actual necessity for you to express your feelings. For I know what they are; and—I'm infernally sorry."