Horace stared. It had not occurred to him till that moment that his old schoolfellow could be anything but glad to see him, and he didn’t believe it now.
“Will Harker be coming?” he inquired, ignoring Mr Pillans’ presence.
“No, no one you know is coming,” said Blandford, half angrily, half nervously.
“That’s a pity. I’d have liked to see some of the old lot. Ever since we came to grief none of them has been near us except Harker. He called one day, like a brick, but he won’t be up again till Christmas.”
“Good-night,” said Blandford.
His tone was quite lost on Horace.
“Good-night, old man. By the way, Reg—you know he’s up in the North now—asked me to pay you six-and-six he owed you. He said you’d know about it. Is it all right?”
Blandford coloured up violently.
“I’m not going to take it. I told him so,” said he. “Oh yes, you are, you old humbug,” said Horace, “so catch hold. A debt’s a debt, you know.”
“It’s not a debt,” said Blandford. “I gave it to him, so good-night.”