Cecil came face to face with his brother in the room where refreshments were
being dispensed by solemn-looking footmen and trim parlour-maids. He stared at
him for a moment in surprise.
"What on earth are you doing here, Andrew?" he asked.
"Exactly what I was wondering myself," Andrew answered, setting down his
empty glass. "I met Bellamy Smith this afternoon in Bond Street, and he asked
me to dine, without saying anything about this sort of show afterwards. By the by,
Cecil," he added, "what are you doing in town? I thought you said that you were
not coming up until the late autumn."
"No more I am, for any length of time," Cecil answered. "I am up for the day, back
to-morrow. There were one or two things I wanted, and it was easier to come up
and see about them than to write."
"Is Forrest still with you?" Andrew asked.
Cecil hesitated, and his brother had an unpleasant conviction that for a moment
he was uncertain whether to tell the truth or no.
"Yes!" Cecil answered, "he is still there. I know you don't like him, Andrew, but he
really isn't a bad sort, and he's quite a sportsman."
"Does he play cards with you?" Andrew asked.
"Never even suggested it," Cecil declared eagerly. "Fact is, we're out shooting all
day, duck shooting, or fishing, or motoring, and we go to bed soon after dinner."
"You can't come to much harm at that," Andrew admitted. "By the by, do you
know that Engleton has never turned up?"
"I have heard so," Cecil admitted. "I am not so surprised."
