“Jolly country.”
“You’d love it.”
“Well, so long.”
“So long.”
On the bottom step Lord Dreever halted.
“I say, I’ve got it!”
“Good for you; got what?”
“Why, I knew I’d seen that chap’s face somewhere before, only I couldn’t place him. I’ve got him now. He’s the Johnny who came into the shelter last night—chap you gave a quid to.”
Spike’s was one of those faces which, without being essentially beautiful, stamp themselves on the memory.
“You’re quite right,” said Jimmy. “I was wondering if you would recognise him. Would you prefer a cigar or a cocoanut? The fact is, he’s a man I once employed over in New York, and when I came across him over here he was so evidently wanting a bit of help that I took him on again. As a matter of fact I needed somebody to look after my things, and Spike can do it as well as anybody else.”