"Don't mock, John. Don't jeer. Don't jibe and scoff. I'm a broken man."
"Only cracked, I should have said."
Hugo was not attuned to cousinly badinage. He frowned austerely.
"Less back-chat," he begged. "I came here for sympathy. And a drink. Have you got anything to drink?"
"There's some whisky in that cupboard."
Hugo heaved himself from the chair, looking more Russian than ever. John watched his operations with some concern.
"Aren't you mixing it pretty strong?"
"I need it strong." The unhappy man emptied his glass, refilled it, and returned to the chair. "In fact, it's a point verging very much on the moot whether I ought to have put any water in it at all."
"What's the trouble?"
"This isn't bad whisky," said Hugo, becoming a little brighter.