WHICH, BEING SOMEWHAT IMPORTANT, IS CONSEQUENTLY SHORT
"My dear fellow," said the Viscount, stifling a yawn beneath the bedclothes, "you rise with the lark,—or should it be linnet? Anyhow, you do, you know. So deuced early!"
"I am here early because I haven't been to bed, Dick."
"Ah, night mail? Dev'lish uncomfortable! Didn't think you'd come back in such a deuce of a hurry, though!"
"But you wanted to see me, Dick, what is it?"
"Why,—egad, Bev, I'm afraid it's nothing much, after all.
It's that fellow Smivvle's fault, really."
"Smivvle?"
"Fellow actually called here yesterday—twice, Bev. Dev'lish importunate fellow y'know. Wanted to see you,—deuced insistent about it, too!"
"Why?"
"Well, from what I could make out, he seemed to think—sounds ridiculous so early in the morning,—but he seemed to fancy you were in some kind of—danger, Bev."