"I'm one of those people who have too much money to be able to do anything I really care about, most of the time. The family keeps me in sight and control. But I'm going to cut away to-morrow."
"In the Foreign Legion? I'll go with you."
"Splendid!" They shook hands across the table.
Three hours later found them at another café. They had been walking part of the time in the throngs on the street. For a while they had stood outside a newspaper office watching the bulletins. They were quite drunk.
"Old man," Shayne said, "I'm mighty glad I found you."
"Me, too, old egg. Where do we go next?"
"I don't know. What's your favourite vice? We can locate it in Marseilles."
Hugo frowned. "Well, vice is so limited in its scope."
His companion chuckled. "Isn't it? I've always said vice was narrow. The next time I see Aunt Emma I'm going to say: 'Emma, vice is becoming too narrow in its scope.' She'll be furious and it will bring her to an early demise and I'll inherit a lot more money, and that will be the real tragedy. She's a useless old fool, Aunt Emma. Never did a valuable thing in her life. Goes in for charity—just like we go in for golf and what-not. Oh, well, to hell with Aunt Emma."
Hugo banged his glass on the table. "Garçon! Encore deux whiskey à l'eau and to hell with Aunt Emma."