“I’m not thinking of starting at all,” said Micky. “I want you to go––alone! You’ve been often enough now not to get lost. Do you think you can manage it?”
“Yes, sir, if you think you can manage without me here.”
There was the faintest touch of amazement in the man’s even voice; he knew how helpless Micky was, or pretended to be––knew how he hated being left to do for himself.
But Micky only laughed.
“Oh, I can manage all right. I shall probably go away somewhere myself for a few days. Besides, you won’t be gone long–––” He paused.
“No, sir,” said Driver.
Micky was leaning against the mantelshelf; his eyes were all crinkled up into a laugh as if he had heard some excellent joke which he was about to repeat.
“No, you won’t be gone long,” he said again. “A couple of days, I should think. You can put up at the hotel we stayed at last time; they’ll look after you, and the manager speaks English.”
“Yes, sir–––” Driver hesitated. “And––what were you wanting me to do when I get there, sir?” he asked, after a moment.
Micky clung to his joke for an instant longer, then suddenly he let it go.