"Oh, ah! Yes. Blest if I hadn't forgotten. And I thought I was going to give you one, too, about the bracelet; but it didn't come off. Maybe yours won't either, dear boy."
"Oh, don't you make any mistake upon that score. Lay you a fiver it makes you sit up when I spring it on you. Shove that siphon over this way, will you, dear boy? Thanks, very much. I say, Barch—chin'-chin', old chap!— I say, you want to know what sent me back so unexpectedly, do you, eh? Well, you may."
"May I? Thanks. Then what did?"
"Same thing that called me away in the first place—a blessed swindle!"
"The dickens you say? What sort of a swindle, old chap, eh?"
"A forged letter. Somebody wanted to get me away from this house for some purpose or another, and to keep me away until late to-night, too. I don't know why, and I don't know what for, but I'm jolly well certain who the party is, b 'gad; and it's a howlin' eye-opener, I give you my word! Wait a bit!"
He got up suddenly, walked to the door, opened it a foot or so, peeped out, then reclosed it and walked back to his seat. He poured out a third brandy, and drank it almost neat this time, then put his elbows upon the table, and, leaning forward, looked straight into Cleek's eyes.
"Barch, I've discovered something," he said in a lowered voice. "My father's playing a double game. He's a damned old two-faced hypocrite, that's what, and I've found him out at last!"
The cigar dropped suddenly from Cleek's fingers, and he ducked down in quest of it. He simply had to have some excuse to cover up the state of his feelings, or they would have got the better of him. A while ago he had said to himself that the fellow was despicable enough to implicate his own parents if it were necessary to save his skin; but even then he had only half believed it; now, however, he knew, and a fierce indignation bit into the very soul of him.
The worm had suddenly developed into a viper.