"That you, Reggie?"
Reggie laid down his hat and stick on the settee.
"The answer," he said, "is in the affirmative."
"Well, come in," replied the voice, "and don't be an ass."
Accepting the first suggestion, Reggie walked across the hall.
The room which he entered was as comfortable as a man's bedroom has any right to be. A wood fire was crackling away pleasantly in the grate, and reflecting a comfortable glow on the two or three excellent specimens of Mr. Finch Stuart's talent which hung upon the walls.
On the bed sat Tony, tastefully draped in a white Turkish bath robe. He was smoking a cigarette and helping himself out of a bottle of champagne from the table beside him.
Reggie looked at him reprovingly.
"Tony," he said, "I thought you had long ago abandoned that disgusting English habit of eating breakfast."
Tony shook his head.