‘Not yet, Birnie. I’ve been very near it, though, once or twice.’
‘How strangely things happen,’ thought Birnie to himself. ‘I’ve been to Heckett’s and Egerton’s to-day, and now here’s Marston dropped from the skies, as if to complete the circle.’
The doctor glanced at his visitor’s costume, and then at his face again.
‘Hard up, I suppose?’ he said uneasily.
‘Devilish hard up, old man. So hard up that I have called for that bob you owe me for directing you to Little Queer Street the other night.’
The doctor started.
‘Good gracious, man! you don’t mean to say that was you?’
‘It was. Here’s the card you gave me. I’ve given you three days credit as it is.’ Marston drew the card from his pocket and give it to Birnie. ‘That’s how I knew where to find you. Deuced funny how things come about, isn’t it?’
Marston laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh, and the doctor didn’t respond to it.
He looked very uncomfortable, and hesitated for a moment; then, assuming an air of nonchalance, he said, with an affectation of cheeriness: