“It would be interesting to find out,” I admitted.  “All the same, Joyce, I don’t see why you should do all the dirty work of the firm.”

“It’s my job for the minute,” said Joyce cheerfully, “and none of the firm’s work is dirty to me.”

She came across, and opening my coat, slipped the envelope which she had taken out of her desk into my inner pocket.  “I got those out of the bank today,” she said—­“twenty five-pound notes.  You had better take them before we forget:  you’re sure to want some money.”

Then, before I could speak, she picked up the second bottle of champagne that Tommy had just opened, and filled up all three glasses.

“I like your description of us as the firm,” she said; “don’t you, Tommy?  Let’s all drink a health to it!”

Tommy jumped to his feet and held up his glass.  “The Firm!” he cried.  “And may all the fools who sent Neil to prison live to learn their idiocy!”

I followed his example.  “The Firm!” I cried, “and may everyone in trouble have pals like you!”

Joyce thrust her arm through mine and rested her head against my shoulder.  “The Firm!” she said softly.  Then, with a little break in her voice, she added in a whisper:  “And you don’t really want Sonia, do you, Neil?”

CHAPTER XV

A HUMAN “CATCH”

It’s not often that the weather in England is really appropriate to one’s mood, but the sunshine that was streaming down into Edith Terrace as I banged the front door at half-past eight the next morning seemed to fit in exactly with my state of mind.  I felt as cheerful as a schoolboy out for a holiday.  Apart altogether from the knowledge that I was going to spend a whole delightful day with Tommy and Joyce, the mere idea of getting on the water again was enough in itself to put me into the best of spirits.

I stopped for a moment at the flower-stall outside Victoria Station to buy Joyce a bunch of violets—­she had always been fond of violets—­and then calling up a taxi instructed the man to drive me to Fenchurch Street.

I found Tommy and Joyce waiting for me on the platform.  The former looked superbly disreputable in a very old and rather dirty grey flannel suit, while Joyce, who was wearing a white serge skirt with a kind of green knitted coat, seemed beautifully in keeping with the sunshine outside.

“Hullo!” exclaimed Tommy.  “We were just getting the jim-jams about you.  Thought you’d eloped with Sonia or something.”

I shook my head.  “I never elope before midday,” I said.  “I haven’t the necessary stamina.”

I offered Joyce the bunch, which she took with a smile, giving my hand a little squeeze by way of gratitude.  “You dear!” she said.  “Fancy your remembering that.”

“Well, come along,” said Tommy.  “This is the train all right; I’ve got the tickets and some papers.”

He opened the door of a first-class carriage just behind us, and we all three climbed in.  “We shall have it to ourselves,” he added.  “No one ever travels first on this line except the Port of London officials, and they don’t get up till the afternoon.”