'When is the funeral?'
'Friday.'
'Where shall you live in the meantime?'
'I don't know—I haven't thought about it.'
'I should go to some hotel, if I were you,' said Munden, 'and I have a proposal to make. If I wait till Saturday, will you come with me to Como?'
Shergold did not at once reply. He was walking hurriedly, and making rather strange movements with his head and arms. They came into the shadow of the vaulted way beneath London Bridge Station. At this hour the great tunnel was quiet, save when a train roared above; the warehouses were closed; one or two idlers, of forbidding aspect, hung about in the murky gaslight, and from the far end came a sound of children at play.
'You won't be wanted here?' Munden added.
'No—no—I think not.' There was agitation in the voice.
'Then you will come?'
'Yes, I will come.' Shergold spoke with unnecessary vehemence and laughed oddly.