"And then there's the apartments," put in the Infant roguishly. "I wonder what they'll tot up to?"
"Jones alone knows," I groaned.
He came in—a veritable devil—while his name was on my lips, with a new box of cigarettes.
"Clear away!" I said briefly.
He cleared away, and we breathed freely. We leaned back in the plush-covered easy-chairs, sending rings of fragrant smoke towards the blue horizon, and I felt more able to face the situation calmly.
"I daresay we can lend you five quid between us," said Towers.
"What's the good of a loan to an honest man?" I asked. "Can't we work the joke without such a lot of capital? The first thing is to get out of these rooms, and into that cosy little crib near you. I can say I yearn for your society."
"But have you the courage to look Jones in the face and tell him that?" queried Towers dubiously.
I hesitated. I felt instinctively that Jones would be dreadfully shocked if I changed my palatial apartments for a cheap bedroom; that it would be better if some one else broke the news.
"Oh, the Infant'll explain," I said lightly.