Eric felt himself being hypnotized. A voice that was not under his control answered:
“I will.”
O’Rane stood up and called his dog.
“Lane has to go abroad for his lungs,” he explained. “He’ll be all right in a year or two’s time, but he’s told Miss Maitland that he’ll never be in a condition to marry; you must back up the story. Now that’s pretty well all. Lane will be busy the next few days, so you’d better not go near his place. After that, I understand that Miss Maitland will have to go away to the country for a bit. When she comes back, you can see her. If she shews any hesitation, you can tell her that Lane himself provided the money for you to marry her on. That’ll fix that... Now we must be going.”
He walked to the door and felt for the handle. Eric rose wearily and followed him, hardly troubling to wonder where he was being taken. Gaymer sat biting his nails and staring at the floor.
“Good-bye,” O’Rane called from the door.
There was an inarticulate grunt from the sofa. Eric was half-way across the room, but he hesitated and came back to Gaymer.
“I don’t suppose I shall see you again,” he said. “Good-bye. Good luck.”
O’Rane was humming to himself in the hall. Gaymer looked towards the door; then his eyes swept slowly round on a level with Eric’s waist; they raised themselves diffidently, and he saw a hand stretched out to him.
“Good-bye, Lane,” he said.