"Hullo, young Cargill!"
The door burst open and Stranack, oozing health and sanity, glared at him.
"Jove! What a wreck you look!" continued Stranack. "You've been frousting too much. I'm glad I came. The car's outside, and we'll run down to Kingston, take a skiff and pull up to Molesey."
The river! Young Cargill felt the blood singing in his ears.
"I'm afraid I can't manage it. I—I've got an appointment this afternoon," he stammered.
Stranack perceived that he was lying, and wondered. For a few minutes he gossiped, while young Cargill was repeating to himself:
"You must pull yourself together. It's becoming an obsession. You must pull yourself together."
He was vaguely conscious that Stranack was about to depart. Stranack was already in the doorway. His chance of killing the obsession was slipping from him! A special effort and then:
"Stop!" cried Cargill. "I—I'll come with you, Stranack."
Oddly enough, he felt much better when they were actually on the river. He had never been afraid of water, as such. And the familiar scenery, together with the wholesome exercise of sculling, acted as a tonic to his nerves.