“Your brother will turn up when you’re least expecting him,” he said in his most matter-of-fact voice.  “You’ll see if he doesn’t—­and then everything will come right.”

Jimmy grunted.  He fidgeted round the room and came to anchorage in front of the window.  He stood staring out into the not very cheerful street.

Sangster knocked the ashes from his pipe and rose.

“Well, we may as well be going,” he said.  “I thought you told me we were to lunch with your wife.”

“So I did.  She’s gone shopping this morning—­didn’t want me.  I said we’d meet her at the Savoy at one.  I want to call in at my rooms first, if you don’t mind.”  Jimmy spoke listlessly.  He was a great deal with Sangster nowadays.  Christine so often made excuses for him not to be with her, and he had got into that state when he could not tolerate his own company.  He dreaded being left to his thoughts; he would not be alone for a minute if he could help it.

They left Sangster’s rooms and went to Jimmy’s.

“I asked Christine to come here the other day,” Jimmy said with a short laugh as he fitted his key in the door.  “She wouldn’t, of course.”

“Why not?”

“Because Cynthia had been here.”  He looked away from his friend’s eyes.  “I don’t blame her.  She’ll never understand the difference.  That—­that other——­ I wonder how it ever came about at all now, when I look back.”

Sangster followed him silently.

“I shall give the d——­d place up,” Jimmy said sullenly.  “I can’t afford to keep it on really; and if she won’t come here——­”

Sangster made no comment.  Jimmy put his hat down on the table and went over to the sideboard for whisky and glasses.

“Don’t be a fool, Jimmy,” said Sangster.

He shrugged his shoulders when Jimmy told him to mind his own business.  He turned away.

“Here’s a telegram,” he said suddenly.

Jimmy turned.

“For me?”

“Yes—­your brother I expect.”

Jimmy snatched up the yellow envelope and tore it open.  He read the message through: 

“Coming to London to-night.  Meet me Waterloo eight-thirty.”

He laughed mirthlessly.

“The Great Horatio?” Sangster asked.

“Yes.”

Jimmy had forgotten the whisky.  He took up his hat.

“Come on; I must tell Christine.”  He made for the door.

“You’d better take the wire to show her,” said Sangster.  They went out into the street together.

“It’s too early to go to the Savoy,” said Jimmy.  He was walking very fast now.  There was a sort of eagerness in his face; perhaps he hoped that his brother’s presence, as Sangster had said, would make all the difference.  “We’ll hop along to the hotel and fetch her.”

He walked Sangster off his feet.  He pushed open the swing door of the hotel with an impatient hand.