"I suppose so," replied Tony. "I think I would agree to do anything rather than argue with Henry."
He pushed back his chair and finishing off the brandy in his glass, rose to his feet.
"Going out?" asked Guy.
Tony nodded. "Just for a few minutes. It's a very important step in one's life to become a member of Parliament—especially for Balham North. I am going to have a little quiet meditation beneath the stars."
Guy looked at him disbelievingly. "Umph!" he observed, and taking out his favourite after-dinner smoke—a short, well-seasoned briar pipe, began methodically to fill it from his pouch.
Leaving him to this innocent luxury, Tony crossed the hall, and without troubling to pick up a hat sauntered leisurely out of the house and down the drive. It was a perfect night. Under a sky of inky blue, powdered with stars, the Heath lay dark and silent, as if dreaming regretfully of those far gone spacious times when the mounted highwaymen lurked amongst its bushes.
The only people who lurked there at present were much too occupied with each other to pay any attention to Tony. With his cigar glowing pleasantly in the darkness he strolled slowly across the grass in the direction of the water-works, which stood up in a clear-cut, black mass against the clearness of the night sky.
A few yards further brought him to the end of the quiet road in which the Spaldings' house was situated. It was overshadowed by trees, but in the light of a street lamp some little way down, he caught sight of a solitary, bare-headed figure leaning over one of the front gates. Even at that distance he could recognize the familiar features of "Tiger" Bugg.
As Tony came up, the future world's champion lifted the latch, and stepped out noiselessly on to the pavement to meet him.
"I guessed it was you, sir," he observed in a low voice. "You didn't 'appen to spot no one 'angin' abaht under them trees as you come along?"