“A cool drink wouldn't be amiss.”
“They make a nice tankard with cider and a lump of ice at the 'Rainbow'. What do you say to that?”
“It sounds touching,” said Drysdale. So Tom posted off to Fleet Street to order the liquor, and came back followed by a waiter with the tankard. Drysdale took a long pull and smacked his lips.
“That's a wrinkle,” he said, handing the tankard to Tom. “I suppose the lawyers teach all the publicans about here a trick or two. Why, one can fancy one's self back in the old quad, looking out on this court. If it weren't such an outlandish out-of-the-way place, I think I should take some chambers here myself. How did you get here?”
“Oh, they belong to a friend of mine who is away. But how did you get here?”
“Why, along the Strand, in a Hansom.”
“I mean, how did you know I was here?”
“Grey told me.”
“What! Grey, who was at St. Ambrose's with us?”
“Yes. You look puzzled.”