"Of course I will if he insists," said Laurence.
"Oh, you swine," said Richard staggering to his feet. "You rotten blasted swine. Aren't you satisfied with what you've done—isn't it enough that you make the nights into a hell for me—a screaming hell. Sleep? How can I sleep? How can I sleep when——"
A violent, paroxysm of coughing seized and shook him this way and that.
"Tut, tut, tut! You haf a very bad cold there," said Tan Diest sweetly. "You must eat one of these lozenges."
Richard struck the box out of the hand that proffered it and fell heaped up into a chair beside the table.
"No pleasure to us you stay awake, eh, Laurence, eh?"
"'Course not. Now don't look at me like that, old fellar, I was thundering decent to you when first you arrived. Barring smoke, literature and alcohol it was a home from home. It's your own pigeon things have got a bit tight. Doesn't pay striking out against the odds."
"You little rat," said Richard turning a bit in his chair. "I'd like——" and he closed his fist.
"Silly talk, old chap, waste of time."
"I could waste a lot of time that way."