“How did he come here?” It was still myself speaking.
“Good God—how should I know!” he muttered. “What has that to do with it?”
“Where are you going?”
“I don't know,” he was answering me. “There are trains in the morning. And I won't stay here to-night. I won't stay here to-night!”
“Are you sure of this?” I asked. Why was it that my mind seemed to be refusing utterly to react from this news! Why could n't I realize it! Why could n't I think!
“He's at the Wagon-lits. I saw him. He is drinking. This is no place for you, either. I advise you to move quick.”
“No,” said I, “I shall see him. He and I got on very well. I shall talk with him. It is time some one forced him to listen to reason.”
Sir Robert, I recall, had a shoe in his hand at this moment. It fell to the floor. At the noise, we both started. His face twitched again—on the left side. He looked at me, with eyes like little glass beads.
“Why not?” I added.
Sir Robert drew in a long breath.