“You can!”
“Then I’ll say good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”
“I mean really good-bye. I’m sailing for England on Saturday on the ‘Atlantic.’”
“Indeed? My son will be your fellow-traveller.”
Bream Mortimer looked somewhat apprehensive.
“You won’t tell him that I was the one who spilled the beans?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You won’t wise him up that I threw a spanner into the machinery?”
“I do not understand you.”