Cairns laughed: "You are jingled all right," he said. "I recognise the urbane symptoms of your Desboro ancestors."
"You flatter them and me," said Desboro, bowing. "They were the limit, and I'm nearing it."
"Pardon! You have arrived, sir," said Cairns, returning the salute with exaggerated gravity.
They parted with pomp and circumstance, Desboro to saunter back to his rooms and lie limply in his arm chair beside an empty fireplace until sleep overcame him where he sat. And he looked very young, and white, and somewhat battered as he lay there in the fading winter daylight.
The ringing racket of his telephone bell aroused him in total darkness. Still confused by sleep, he groped for the electric light switch, could not find it; but presently his unsteady hand encountered the telephone, and he unhooked the receiver and set it to his ear.
At first his imagination lied to him, and he thought it was Jacqueline's distant voice, though he knew in his heart it could not be.
"Jim," repeated the voice, "what are you doing this evening?"
"Nothing. I was asleep. It's you, Elena, isn't it?"
"Of course. To whom are you in the habit of talking every evening at seven by special request?"
"I didn't know it was seven."