"One never knows," was all the explanation he vouchsafed after this
tedious performance.

"Whether a chauffeur will steal his master's motor?" I asked.

"Incidentally," he said.

"But, good heavens, if he's that sort of man..." I suggested.

"I'm not saying that he is," Hughes replied.

I realised then that his idea of our conversation was nothing more nor
less than that of a game to be played as expertly as possible. He had all
the makings of a cabinet minister, but as a companion he was, on this
occasion, merely annoying. I felt that I could stand no more of him, and I
was trying to frame a sentence that would convey my opinion of him without
actual insult, when Frank Jervaise looked in at the door.

He stared at us suspiciously, but his expression commonly conveyed some
aspect of threat or suspicion. "Been looking all over the place for you,"
he said.

"For me?" Hughes asked.

Jervaise shook his head. "No, I want Melhuish," he said, and stood
scowling.

"Well, here I am," I prompted him.