As I helped the Seraph out of the house and into a taxi, I was trying to string together a few words of sympathy and encouragement. Then I looked at his face, and decided to save my breath. Physically and mentally he was too hard hit to profit by any consolation I could offer. As a clumsy symbol of good intention I held out my hand, and had it gripped and retained till we reached Adelphi Terrace.
"Never mind me," he said, in a slow, sing-song voice, hesitating like a man speaking an unfamiliar language. "It's you and Joyce we've got to consider."
"Don't worry your head, Seraph," I said. "We'll find a way out. You've got to be quiet and get well."
"But what are you going to do?"
"I've no idea," I answered blankly.
The Seraph sighed and lifted his feet wearily on to the seat opposite.
"You played that last hand well, Toby. I'm afraid you'll have to go on playing without any support from me. I'm dummy, I'm only good for two possible tricks."
I waited to see the hand exposed.
"I can't find Mavis," he went on. "You see that?"
"I do."