“Bluff the beggar out of it.”
“But suppose you can't?”
“Buy him off. He's one—of my creditors.”
Joe Pillin stared at him afresh. “You always had such nerve,” he said yearningly. “Do you ever wake up between two and four? I do—and everything's black.”
“Put a good stiff nightcap on, my boy, before going to bed.”
“Yes; I sometimes wish I was less temperate. But I couldn't stand it. I'm told your doctor forbids you alcohol.”
“He does. That's why I drink it.”
Joe Pillin, brooding over the fire, said: “This meeting—d'you think they mean to have it? D'you think this man really knows? If my name gets into the newspapers—” but encountering his old friend's deep little eyes, he stopped. “So you advise me to get off to-morrow, then?”
Old Heythorp nodded.
“Your lunch is served, sir.”