“Ah!” said the doctor.
“But—” exclaimed young England, “it was that fellow? It was Batouch?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Nobody ever found out who did it.”
“Well, but of course——”
He checked himself, and an expression of admiration dawned slowly over his healthy, handsome face.
“I say,” he said, “to be able to roll a cigarette directly afterwards! What infernal cheek!”
“Desert air!” I replied. “My dear chap—desert air!”
The doctor nodded.