“Some of the ladies have come over for a bit of supper,” he said.  “Mrs. Hornby and her sister and Captain Reese.  The chef’s got some birds for us, and I’ve put a couple of bottles on ice.  It will be like Del’s—­hey?  A small hot bird and a large cold bottle.  They sent me out to ask you to join us.  They’re in our rooms.”  Meakim rose leisurely and lit a fresh cigar, but Holcombe moved uneasily in his chair.  “You’ll come, won’t you?” Carroll asked.  “I’d like you to meet my wife.”

Holcombe rose irresolutely and looked at his watch.  “I’m afraid it’s too late for me,” he said, without raising his face.  “You see, I’m here for my health.  I—­”

“I beg your pardon,” said Carroll, sharply.

“Nonsense, Carroll!” said Holcombe.  “I didn’t mean that.  I meant it literally.  I can’t risk midnight suppers yet.  My doctor’s orders are to go to bed at nine, and it’s past twelve now.  Some other time, if you’ll be so good; but it’s long after my bedtime, and—­”

“Oh, certainly,” said Carroll, quietly, as he turned away.  “Are you coming, Meakim?”

Meakim lifted his half-empty glass from the table and tasted it slowly until Carroll had left them, then he put the glass down, and glanced aside to where Holcombe sat looking out over the silent city.  Holcombe raised his eyes and stared at him steadily.

“Mr. Holcombe—­” the fugitive began.

“Yes,” replied the lawyer.

Meakim shook his head.  “Nothing,” he said.  “Good-night, sir.”

Holcombe’s rooms were on the floor above Carroll’s, and the laughter of the latter’s guests and the tinkling of glasses and silver came to him as he stepped out upon his balcony.  But for this the night was very still.  The sea beat leisurely on the rocks, and the waves ran up the sandy coast with a sound as of some one sweeping.  The music of women’s laughter came up to him suddenly, and he wondered hotly if they were laughing at him.  He assured himself that it was a matter of indifference to him if they were.  And with this he had a wish that they would not think of him as holding himself aloof.  One of the women began to sing to a guitar, and to the accompaniment of this a man and a young girl came out upon the balcony below, and spoke to each other in low, earnest tones, which seemed to carry with them the feeling of a caress.  Holcombe could not hear what they said, but he could see the curve of the woman’s white shoulders and the light of her companion’s cigar as he leaned upon the rail with his back to the moonlight and looked into her face.  Holcombe felt a sudden touch of loneliness and of being very far from home.  He shivered slightly as though from the cold, and stepping inside closed the window gently behind him.