“Who is the other cup for?” I asked. “If you are expecting visitors I’ll go, because I’m badly in need of a wash.”
“Don’t worry,” said Eileen. “We haven’t time to wash in Vienna, and, anyhow, there’s no soap, for love or money. This is for Wickham, who is no visitor but one of the staff.”
“Wickham?” I said. “Is Brand here?”
“Rather!” said “Daddy” Small. “He has been here a week and is doing good work. Looks after the supplies, and puts his heart into the job.”
As he spoke the door opened and Brand strode into the room, with rain dripping from his waterproof coat which he took off and flung into a corner before he turned to the table.
“Lord! A cup of tea is what I want!”
“And what you shall have, my dear,” said Eileen.
“But don’t you know a friend when you see him?”
“By Jove!”
He held my hand in a hard grip and patted me on the shoulder. Our friendship was beyond the need of words.