"No! it must be a put-up job!"
They were all here, all going to fight. But with what will, I could not yet decide.
Our train, the 7:16, was almost due. Laraque dragged me away towards the platform, out of breath and purple in the face, his hat and eye-glass on one side. He wiped his damp forehead and shiny nose.
"Do you know what delayed me?"
We did not listen to his story, he realised it, and cut it short.
"And ... what about the old lot?"
I mentioned some names and expressed my surprise at not seeing Boutet.
"What! You haven't heard about it! Poor wretch! He's been at Berck, for the last six months."
"Oh, I say ... that's the limit," said Laraque.
He laughed, but I felt that it was only half in fun.