‘No, my boy; I won’t spoil my dinner.’
Mr. Marston had evidently made up his mind that he was not going short of good meals again in a hurry.
Birnie eyed him nervously, and waited for him to grow communicative. He wasn’t comfortable. He was playing a game without knowing his opponent’s cards, and that was a style of play which had never suited Oliver Birnie. He had not long to wait.
Do you know, it’s ten years since I left England,’ said Marston presently. ‘By Jove! there must have been some changes in our little party since then.’
‘Indeed there have.’
‘I come back and I find you a doctor, with a carriage and pair, a nice quiet villa, and a thundering cheeky slavy; I heard abroad that Gurth had got a windfall and was a regular tiptop swell now, and I’ll bet old Heckett hasn’t been behindhand in making hay. I’m the only one of the lot that’s down on my luck. I’ve been the scapegoat—that’s what I’ve been—and I assure you, my dear boy, I’ve grown tired of the character. I’ve come back to change places with one of you, and I’m not particular which.’
Birnie shot a keen, searching glance at his visitor.
‘Look here, Ned, before we go any further, suppose we clear the ground a little. I suppose, from your being here and walking about openly, it’s quite safe for you to have come back?’
‘Quite.’
‘Well, then, why did you go away so suddenly?’