"They told me downstairs that you were inquiring for me," Douglas said.

Drexley nodded.

"Yes. Sit down, will you. I have a sort of message, and there is
something I wanted to say."

A waiter brought Douglas his coffee, and being in an extravagant mood he
ordered a liqueur.

"What'll you have?" he asked.

Drexley hesitated, but finally shook his head.

"No more," he said. "A cigar, if you like."

Even then Drexley shrank from his task. Their chairs were close
together and the room empty--yet for the first ten minutes they spoke of
alien subjects, till a suggestive pause from Douglas and a glance at his
watch made postponement no longer possible. Then, blowing out fierce
clouds of tobacco smoke, he plunged into his subject.

"I've come," he said, "from Emily de Reuss. No, don't interrupt me.
I've a sort of message for you which isn't to be delivered as a message
at all. I'm to drop a hint to you that she would like you to go and see
her, that your refusal to do so would be a little ungracious, because
she came and saw you when you were ill. I'm to let you think that she's
feeling a little hurt at your behaviour, and finally to work you up into
going. Do you see?"