Guy looked at me closely and raised his eyebrows slightly. Then he buried the lower half of his face in a tumbler of whiskey and soda, glanced at me again over the brim, swallowed and set the glass down empty.
"What d'you want with her, if I may ask?" he enquired.
Guy has a dual personality compounded of loyalty to his master and love for humanity at large. The combination is not an easy one to imagine, but he contrived at once to blend the qualities and yet keep them distinct. I told him frankly and fully of my conversation with Dainton.
"I warned him that he was sending me on a fool's errand," I said. "But how could I refuse? I'd submit to being sent on a dozen fool's errands each day, if I thought I could spare him—and his wife—and O'Rane—and his wife——"
Guy raised his hand to interrupt me.
"Look here, how much do you know?" he asked, as I had been asking every second person that day. "Not the early part; what I mean is, are you up to date?"
"Two or three people have told me that O'Rane's actually filed his petition," I said. "Is that true?"
"I don't know. Is that all you know?"
"My dear Guy, the whole of London's discussing the thing, I've heard an approach to the truth and most kinds of variants."
"But is that all you know?" he repeated.