Even when a step sounded in the room behind him, he scarcely looked up.  “One moment, old chap!” He was still working rapidly as he spoke.  “I’ve a toughish bit to get through.  I’ll talk to you in a minute.”

There was no immediate reply.  A man’s figure, dressed in white linen, with one arm quite invisible under the coat, stood halting for a moment in the doorway, then moved out and slowly approached the table at which the other sat.

The lamplight, gleaming upwards, revealed a yellow face of many wrinkles, and curious, glancing eyes that shone like fireflies in the gloom.

He stopped beside the man who worked.  “All right,” he said.  “Finish what you are doing.”

In the silence that followed he seemed to watch the hand that moved over the paper with an absorbing interest.  The instant it rested he spoke.

“Done?”

The man in the chair stretched out his arms with a long gesture of weariness; then abruptly leapt to his feet.

“What am I thinking of, keeping you standing here?  Sit down, Nick!  Yes, I’ve done for the present.  What a restless beggar you are!  Why couldn’t you lie still for a spell?”

Nick grimaced.  “It’s an accomplishment I have never been able to acquire.  Besides, there’s no occasion for it now.  If I were going to die, it would be a different thing, and even then I think I’d rather die standing.  How are you getting on, my son?  What mean these hieroglyphics?”

He dropped into the empty chair and pored over the paper.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand if I told you,” the other answered.  “You’re not an engineer.”

“Not even a greaser of wheels.” admitted Nick modestly.  “But you needn’t throw it in my teeth.  I suppose you are going to make your fortune soon and retire—­you and Daisy and the imp—­to a respectable suburb.  You’re a very lucky chap, Will.”

“Think so?” said Will.

He was bending a little over his work.  His tone sounded either absent or dubious.

Nick glanced at him, and suddenly swept his free right hand across the table.  “Put it away!” he said.  “You’re overdoing it.  Get the wretched stuff out of your head for a bit, and let’s have a smoke before dinner.  I’ll bring her out to you next winter.  See if I don’t!”

Will turned towards him impulsively.  “Oh, man, if you only could!”

“Only could!” echoed Nick.  “I tell you I will.  Ten quid on it if you like.  Is it done?”

But Will shook his head with a queer, unsteady smile.  “No, it isn’t.  But come along and smoke, or you will be having that infernal neuralgia again.  It was confoundedly good of you to look me up like this when you weren’t fit for it.”

Nick laughed aloud.  “Man alive!  You don’t suppose I did it for your sake, do you?  Don’t you know I wanted to break the journey to the coast?”

“Odd place to choose!” commented Will.

Nick arose in his own peculiarly abrupt fashion, and thrust his hand through his friend’s arm.