I wished I had kept my mouth shut. His eyes blazed over me ... but he restrained himself; and Antony’s “restraint” was a portentous business—it made a noise like a fast car with the brakes jammed on.
“Drink!” he said sharply. “I drink nothing to speak of nowadays. There’s an end to all things....” Now the lion’s bedside manner is a significant thing, and even more significant is it when the lion in the fulness of his strength sways a little, just a little; and what would make Red Antony sway just a little would be enough to put another man under the table, and no dishonour to the strength of his head, either.
“I do not wish,” said Antony reasonably, “that you should think me irresponsible through excess of stimulant. The things that are happening to me are not happening through drink, and you must bear that in mind. I am saner than a sane man, though I can hear and see and smell things that a sane man would die of....”
Tarlyon looked at me meaningly. Antony seemed to have forgotten us. Tarlyon took his arm.
“We can’t stay here all night,” he said. “Let us now leave Park Lane in a body and go to my house....”
Antony woke up; he threw back his head and howled: “Taxi!”
“All right, sir, all right,” said the policeman gently. “You don’t need to shout like that.” That was a brave policeman.
“I insist on shouting,” boomed Antony. “Taxi!”
And, thankfully, a taxi appeared from Mount Street, for Red Antony and the police never did mix well. He once arrested two policemen for loitering and took them to Vine Street....
Antony flung open the door. A clock began the lengthy job of striking eleven o’clock.