“That settles it then,” replied Grey resentfully. “I can’t reveal the name of my ‘victim,’ as you so graphically put it. You happen to know him, I 103 believe, and are on a friendly footing with him.” He finished up with a callous laugh.
Robb’s eyes shone wickedly.
“By Jove, Grey, you’ve sunk pretty low in your efforts to regain your lost position. I always knew that you hadn’t a particle of feeling in your whole body for any one but yourself, but I didn’t think you’d treat me to a taste of your rotten ways. Were it not for the sake of Alice Gordon’s chum, the girl you are going to marry, I wouldn’t be your best man. You have become utterly impossible, and, after to-day’s event, I wash my hands of you. Damn it, you’re a skunk!”
Grey laughed loudly, but there was no mirth in his hilarity. It was a heartless, nervous laugh.
“Easy, Robb, don’t get on your high horse,” he said presently. Then he became silent, and a sigh escaped him. “I had to make the suggestion,” he went on, after a while. “You are the only man I dared to trust. Confound it, if you must have it, I’m sorry!” The apology came out with a jerk; it seemed to have been literally wrung from him. “Try and forget it, Robb,” he went on, more quietly, “we’ve known each other for so many years.”
Robb was slightly mollified, but he was not likely to forget his companion’s proposition. He changed the subject.
“Talking of Winnipeg, you know I was up there on business the other day. I had a bit of a shock while I was walking about the depôt waiting for the train to start.”
“Oh.” Grey was not paying much attention; he was absorbed in his own thoughts.
“Yes,” Robb went on. “You remember Mr. Zachary Smith?”