“But—” began Bush, and checked himself again; he knew by the look on Hornblower’s face that it was no use asking further questions.
The Marquis had come into the room and was looking round in unobtrusive inspection. Bush saw him take note of the several men who were not playing, and of Hornblower standing in idle gossip by the door. Bush saw the meaning glance which he directed at Hornblower, and fell into sudden panic.
“Goodbye,” he said, hastily.
The black northeast wind that greeted him in the street was no more cruel than the rest of the world.
Chapter XIX
It was a short, hardfaced woman who opened the door in reply to Bush’s knock, and she looked at Bush even harder when he asked for Lieutenant Hornblower.
“Top of the house,” she said, at last, and left Bush to find his way up.
There could be no doubt about Hornblower’s pleasure at seeing him. His face was lit with a smile and he drew Bush into the room while shaking his hand. It was an attic, with a steeply sloping ceiling; it contained a bed and a night table and a single wooden chair, but, as far as Bush’s cursory glance could discover, nothing else at all.
“And how is it with you?” asked Bush, seating himself in the proffered chair, while Hornblower sat on the bed.
“Well enough,” replied Hornblower—but was there, or was there not, a guilty pause before that answer? In any case the pause was covered up by the quick counterquestion. ‘ And with you?”