Darwen laughed aloud. "The Saxon could never handle the rapier," he said. "You're built for a slogger, Carstairs, and I expect you'd break most men's hearts at that game, but not mine, I can avoid you, I'm too nimble. Will you come home and spend the evening with me?"
"No, thanks, not to-night."
"Oh yes, you will, you're not busy."
"No, I have an engagement."
Darwen raised his eyebrows and shot a quick glance at him. He wondered whether Carstairs was trying his prentice hand at lying.
"In that case of course—" he said, and they walked back to the works in silence.
CHAPTER XV
That evening Carstairs hung round the post office from half-past seven to half-past eight, he was thinking of going away when Mrs Darwen's new maid turned the corner at the end of the street, he waited under the big arc light outside the main entrance. As she came into the light, he stepped up and raised his hat.
"Good evening, Miss Darkey," the name almost stuck in his throat.