“Forgotten where I was. All this talk is making me very thirsty,” said Roger, getting up and going across the room to the sideboard. “Anyone else join me in a spot?” Receiving no answer to this invitation, he said: “Oh, well!” and poured himself out a double whisky. Armed with that he returned to his chair.
“That's better,” he said. “Where was I?”
“Two hundred pounds a year to stay in Australia,” prompted Hannasyde.
“Yes, that's right. Well, I said I'd think it over, and Arnold said I could take it or leave it. I may have been a trifle rash — though I don't think so, because from all I've heard Australia wouldn't suit me at all - but I said I'd leave it. That was more or less the end of the meeting. Arnold had a date, and wanted to be off.”
“With whom?” asked Hannasyde quickly.
“How on earth should I know? I didn't ask him.”
“Do you know where he meant to dine?”
“Look here,” said Roger, “you don't seem to have got the hang of things very well at all. We weren't having a friendly chat.”
“Very well,” said Hannasyde. “What happened next?”
“Oh, nothing much! I told Arnold he could give me a lift as far as Piccadilly, and we got into his car and drove off. He didn't much want to give me a lift, but he seemed to be afraid I might tell his butler who I was, or something, if he refused. On the way he said his offer would stand open till Monday, and I could think it over. However, the more I thought about it the less I liked the scheme. Besides, I'd got fifty pounds.”