"I was suggesting that if you've got nothing better to do you should come to my house in Curzon Street. My wife has a spiritualistic séance on. Starts at midnight. Come in and see the fun."
For a moment Billy hesitated. After all, why not? Anything was better than a solitary contemplation of his own confounded foolishness.
"It's very good of you——" he began, but the other cut him short.
"Not at all. Only too pleased you can manage it."
"But won't your wife—— I mean, I'm a complete stranger." He paused doubtfully by the door of his rooms.
"My wife won't mind," answered Paul Harker, taking him by the arm. "Do you good, my dear fellow. Take your mind off."
It was really deuced good of this fellow Harker. Sympathy of a gambler for a gambler sort of idea. He could only hope that Mrs. Harker would see eye to eye with her husband.
"Here is the house, Mr. Merton. Come in." With a smile of welcome Paul Harker stood aside to let the younger man pass.
"I didn't know you knew my name, Mr. Harker," said Billy Merton, as a footman relieved him of his coat.
"I asked who you were at the Ultima Thule. Come on up and meet my wife." Then, in a hoarse undertone just before they reached the room, he turned to Merton. "I don't know whether you believe in this stuff; but, for Heaven's sake, pretend to."