“Pardon?”
“Is your name Clarence?”
In happier circumstances Soapy would have denied the charge indignantly; but now he decided that it was politic to be whatever anyone wished him to be.
“That’s me, brother,” he said.
Mr. Braddock greatly disliked being called brother, but he made no comment.
“Well, I just buzzed round,” he said, “to tell you that everything’s all right.”
Soapy was far from agreeing with him. He was almost equally far from understanding a word that this inexplicable visitor was saying. He coughed loudly, to drown a strangled sound that had proceeded from the gagged and bound Hash, whom he had deposited in a corner by the range.
“That’s good,” he said.
“About the girl, I mean. Claire, you know. I was in the kitchen next door a moment ago, and she was crying and howling and all that because she thought you didn’t love her any more.”
“Too bad,” said Mr. Molloy.