“Damn them!” said Sir Robert, repeating the anathema with pretended indignation. “Do you think there’s no chance of your being able to identify them?”
“Not the slightest. The fog was so thick you could have cut it with a knife; and they ran off, before the policeman could get hold of any one of them. In his long cumbersome coat it would have been simple nonsense to follow. He said so; and of course I could only climb back into my cab and drive home here. It’s lucky I had a cab; for, damme, if I believe I could have walked it?”
“By Jove! you do appear damaged!” said the sympathising baronet. “Don’t you think you had better go to bed?”
Sir Robert had a design in the suggestion.
“Oh, no,” rejoined Swinton, who, despite the confusion of his ideas, perfectly understood it. “I’m not so bad as that. I’ll take a lie-down on this sofa; and you, Fan, order me some brandy and water! You’ll join me, Sir Robert I’m still able to smoke a cigar with you.”
“You’d better have an oyster to your eye?” said the baronet, drawing out his glass and scrutinising the empurpled peeper. “It will keep down that ‘mouse’ that seems to be creeping out underneath it. ’Twill help to take out the colour.”
“A devilish good idea! Fan, send one of the servants for an oyster. Stay; while they’re about it they may as well bring a couple of dozen. Could you eat some, Sir Robert?”
Sir Robert thought he could. He did not much care for them, but it would be an excuse to procrastinate his stay. Perhaps something might turn up to secure him a tête-à-tête with Mrs Swinton. He had just commenced one that was promising to be agreeable, when so unexpectedly interrupted.
“We may as well make a supper of it?” suggested Swinton, who, having already taken a gulp of the brandy and water, was feeling himself again.
“Let the servant order three dozen, my dear. That will be a dozen for each of us.”