"Hel-lo!" he said, contriving by mere accident to catch sight of Whitaker, who was almost invisible in the big chair with its back to the body of the room. "What you doing up here, Hugh? What's up?"
"It's all up," said Whitaker, trying to pull himself together. "Everything's up!"
"Don't believe it," said Stark, coolly. "My feet are on the ground; but you look as if you'd seen a ghost."
"I have—my own," said Whitaker. The page now stood beside him with a tray. "Open it," he told the boy, indicating a half-bottle of champagne; and then to Peter: "I'm having a bath. Won't you jump in?"
Peter whistled, watching the wine cream over the brandy in the long glass. "King's peg, eh?" he said, with a lift of disapproving eyebrows. "Here, boy, bring me some Scotch and plain water for common people."
The boy disappeared as Whitaker lifted his glass.
"I'm not waiting," he said bluntly. "I need this now."
"That's a question, in my mind, at least. Don't you think you've had about enough for one day?"
"I leave it to your superior knowledge of my capacity," said Whitaker, putting aside the empty glass. "That's my first to-day."
Peter saw that he was telling the truth, but the edge of his disapproval remained keen.