'I wish I was dead!' was the observation which he made.
While Foster and I were watching him some one else appeared at the door--Augustus FitzHoward.
CHAPTER XXIII
[SURPRISES]
Seeing FitzHoward gave me just a little something of a turn. I got then and there the first faint glimmer at the mistake I'd made. But as it's a motto of mine to put on an extra size in smiles each time I'm downed, I just sat tight and wondered who he was. There didn't seem to be much in the wonder line about him. He came sailing straight across at me, his hand stretched out. 'Mr. Babbacombe!'
His tone betokened joy. I knew FitzHoward. I wasn't responsive.
'Who's this person with his hat on his head? Has it become the rule here for men to enter a room with their hats on?'
This was one for Reggie as well as Fitz. Both hats were off before I'd hardly finished. Fitz's enthusiasm seemed a little damped. His hand went back.
'Mr. Babbacombe, I--I was afraid you were dead.'
'What are you talking about? Foster, I hope I don't happen to have dropped into the wrong house by any chance. First I'm mistaken for a ghost, then--for the deuce knows who.'