"I must have a word or two With you," said Dengate, when he had
picked up his hat. "Can you walk straight? I didn't notice you were
drunk before I spoke to you. Come along this way."

To escape the lookers-on, Hilliard moved forward.

"I've always regretted," resumed his companion, "that I didn't give
you a sound thrashing that night in the train. It would have done
you good. It might have been the making of you. I didn't hurt you,
eh?"

"You've bruised my lips--that's all. And I deserved it for being
such a damned fool as to lose my temper."

"You look rather more decent than I should have expected. What have
you been doing in London?"

"How do you know I have been in London?"

"I took that for granted when I knew you'd left your work at
Dudley."

"Who told you I had left it?"

"What does it matter?"

"I should like to know," said Hilliard, whose excitement had passed
and left him cold. "And I should like to know who told you before
that I was in the habit of getting drunk?"