"No, you won't," I replied with equal obstinacy. "I won't take it. If I need it, I'll cable you."
"Devil you will," he growled irritably. "Cables don't run where I'll be. You're an ass, after all."
"Thanks. Would you like to see the children before you go?"
"H'm, yes," he answered meditatively. "No, by gosh!" he added in sudden confusion. "No, I can't. Got to run. Slews of things still to do."
Inscrutable devil, Dibdin! Who would have supposed him such a bundle of oddly-assorted emotions?
"By the way," he said abruptly, as he was starting, "Carmichael—heard from him—everything all right?"
Inwardly I felt a tug as though some one had pulled violently upon some cord inside me.
"Oh, yes," I lied as urbanely as I was able, "everything quite all right. You'll keep me in addresses, I suppose?"
He scrutinized me for an instant so searchingly that with a tremor I feared he would see through me.
"Oh, yes, of course," he finally answered. "The Hotel de France, Papeete, is a good address until you hear of another. They know me there."