Merriton raised an eyebrow, frowned heavily, and by every other method
under the sun tried to make it plain to West that the topic was taboo.
Wherefore West raised _his_ eyebrows, began to make a hasty exclamation,
thought better of it, and then clapping his hand over his mouth broke
into whistling the latest jazz tune, as though he had completely
extricated both feet from the unfortunate mire he had planted them
in--but with very little success.

Wynne was a frowning Hercules as he entered the pleasant smoke-filled
room. Merriton's arm lay upon his sleeve, and he endured because he had
to--that was all.

"Hello!" he said, to Lester Stark's rather half-hearted greeting--Lester
Stark never had liked Dacre Wynne and they both knew it. "You here as
well? Merriton's giving me a send-off and no mistake. Gad! you chaps will
be envying me this time next week, I'll swear! Out on the briny for a
decently long trip; plenty of pretty women--on which I'm bankin' of
course"--he gave Merriton a sudden, searching look, "and not a care in
the world. And the white lights of Cairo starin' at me across the water.
Some picture, isn't it?"

"You may keep it!" said Tony West with a shudder. "When you've smelled
Cairo, Wynne, old boy, you'll come skulkin' home with your tail between
your legs. A 'rose by any other name would smell as sweet,' but
Cairo--parts of it mind you--well, Cairo's the stinkin'st rose I ever
put my nose into, that's all!"

"There are some things which offend the nostrils more than--odours!"
threw back Wynne with a black look in Nigel's direction, and with a
sort of slur in his voice that showed he had been drinking more than