He nodded his head thoughtfully. It occurred to him that in his quiet way Terence generally did fix up things.
He grunted.
“H’m,” said he. “Most ingenious of you. I’m sure Henry Hope is indeed lucky in his friends.”
Terence smiled modestly and opened the door of No. 8, whereupon Rouse walked in and looked round with a contemptuous sniff.
“This,” said he, “looks like a prison cell. It’ll make Henry feel absolutely homesick.”
“Homesick?”
“Certainly. That little den upstairs was a veritable home from home.”
“Why, dash it all, man, you said it was——”
“Never mind what I said,” retorted Rouse. “I’d grown to love that place.”
Terence burst out laughing.