“Yes.” Hugh was slipping out of his trousers. “I’ll be in in a minute.” He kicked off his shoes and tugged at his tie.
“Where the dickens have you been?” demanded Bert, more loudly. Hugh heard his bed creak and a moment later his bare feet on the floor. And that instant there was a gentle knock on the door.
Hugh flung things from him wildly and dived for his bed. There was silence. Then the knock was repeated, and:
“Winslow!” came Cathcart’s cautious voice from beyond the portal.
After a moment’s hesitation Bert, making a good deal of noise about it, went to the door and flung it open. Hugh, the covers pulled to his chin, held his breath and listened.
“Hello, Wallace.” That was Bert’s voice, surprised and sleepy. “What’s up?”
“Sorry to disturb you,” said Cathcart, pushing past Bert and closing the door behind him, “but someone just came up the stairs and entered this room.”
“Nonsense,” replied Bert, suppressing a yawn. “You probably heard me coming from the bathroom.”
“I didn’t only hear, I saw,” said Cathcart quietly. “You don’t usually visit the bathroom with all your clothes on, I suppose.”
“Not usually, old man, but I couldn’t find my bathrobe. I suppose it’s somewhere around——”