“Who told you all this?” inquired Rupert.
“Who told me?” said Vic. “Why, that mad Johnny.”
“Mad Johnny? What mad Johnny?”
Vic said: “Eh! What? You know, that—ahr—big chap who was falling over her in the fox trot. Looked kind of crazy, you know—big chap—Scotch.”
“Where is he now?” enquired Rupert.
“Oh, I fancy about there, somewhere,” replied Vic, remembering that he had seen McNish moving toward the door. “Better go and look him up and get more particulars. Might help some, you know.”
“Oh, Adrien, let us go to her,” said Patricia. “I am sure Annette would love to have you. Poor Annette!”
“Oh! I say!” interposed Vic hurriedly. “There is really no necessity. I shouldn't like to intrude in family affairs and that sort of thing, you know what I mean.”
Adrien's grave, quiet eyes were upon Vic's face. “You think we had better not go, then,” she said slowly.
“Sure thing!” replied Vic, with cheerful optimism. “There is no necessity—slight accident—no need to make a fuss about it.”