“Precisely. For Heaven’s sake, Harry, do make up your mind what you are going to do. But let me tell you this—your presence irritates him, and it is much better for him to be left alone.”
“Well, then, we’ll leave him. We go this way for the garage.”
Dinner that night at the Minerva Hotel was rather a dull affair, for Bruton even at the third course began to fidget about Gascoyne and to wonder if his friend were lying dead in his bedroom.
“Let’s have some wine, Harry,” said Cassels. “What’s that golden booze the people at the next table are drinking?”
“Some native stuff—Olympus they call it, I think.”
“Well, we’ll have a bottle—two bottles.”
But the more Bruton drank the more despondent he became, and over coffee and liqueurs he said:
“It’s quite time he was here. Half-past nine.”
“For heaven’s sake, do keep calm. We can do nothing but wait.”
“Yes, I know. But I feel we ought not to have left him alone all day. How rotten he would feel when he woke up! And, in his present condition, he may be annoyed that we’ve come here to dine. I do hope my servant has given him my note telling him where to find us.”