“Now: at once.”
“That’s your sort,” cried Gellow. “Never you say I’m not your friend.”
Ten minutes later the boat was manned, and Glyddyr was ready to step in, but Gellow laid his hand upon his arm, and drew him back.
“Don’t,” he said, almost with tears in his eyes; “don’t go like that, dear boy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go and change that tie. If you haven’t got a black one, put on a white.”
Glyddyr obeyed him sullenly, and changed his tie before starting, while his visitor went down into the saloon, helped himself to a cigar, and took up a glass and the brandy decanter.
“A nip wouldn’t do me any harm,” he said with a laugh, and, removing the stopper, poured out a goodly dram.
It was half-way to his lips when he stopped, and poured it back.
“No,” he said quickly, “I want a clear head now; I can enjoy myself when I’ve got Master Glyddyr quite in trim.”