You are three sorts of a brick to think out that job in Piccadilly, but as it stands it's rather too one-sided an arrangement. I couldn't take it unless I was in a position to shove in a little of my own money too. Practically all I've got at present would have to go to my dear creditors, who have been so patient and long-suffering—I don't think!—God bless 'em. If you will keep it open for say, another year—by which time I ought to have swindled the Garage Anglais out of quite a decent sum—I shall be only too delighted to come back and wipe the floor with you at billiards as often as you like. Your notion that you can beat me is one of the most pathetic instances of monomania I ever came across.
Remember me to Guy, who I suppose is as frivolous as ever, and give my love to any of the old crowd who are still knocking around.
Yours ever,
JIMMY.
Given from our place of hiding this third day of the fifth month in the second year of our exile.
Tony read this letter through and then tossed it across to Guy, who perused it in turn between mouthfuls of egg and bacon.
"His troubles don't seem to have sobered him down at all," he observed rather disapprovingly.
"I hope not," said Tony. "A sobered down Jimmy would be a lamentable object—something like an archangel with his wings clipped."
"What he says is true enough, I suppose," pursued Guy. "At least it only confirms what Congosta told us."
Tony nodded. "Things are on the move all right," he remarked complacently. "I am pretty sure Da Freitas meant to press the button just as soon as the wedding was over. He must be tearing his back hair over this hitch in the programme."
"I am glad we have got Isabel away from the Spaldings," observed Guy, handing back the letter, "I shan't feel really easy in my mind though, until she is on board the Betty."