"Tort."
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know. Probably nobody knows. But it's a safe card to play.
Tort. Don't forget it."
"Tort. Right ho!"
"Well, then, come along and pack your things. There's a train to London in about an hour."
They walked back to the hotel. Sam gulped once or twice.
"Oh, by the way," he said, "Er—how is—er—Miss Bennett?"
"Oh, she's all right." Eustace Hignett hummed a gay air. Sam's ready acquiescence in his scheme had relieved his apprehensive mind.
"Going strong?" said Sam, after a pause.
"Oh, absolutely. We're quite good friends again now. No use being in the same house and not being on speaking terms. It's rummy how the passage of time sort of changes a fellow's point of view. Why, when she told me about her engagement, I congratulated her as cheerfully as dammit! And only a few weeks ago…."