Waterbury.' He looked at his watch. 'Thirteen minutes -- shall I do it?
There's a good local paper, the _Free Press_, and I have the offer of
part-ownership. I shall buy, if possible, and live in the country for a
year or two, to pick up my health. Can't say I love London. Might get
into country journalism for good. Curse this torment!'

In Tottenham Court Road, Rolfe bade his friend goodbye, and the cab
rushed on.


CHAPTER 2


It was half past ten when Rolfe knocked at the door in Hamilton Terrace.
He learnt from the servant that Mr. Carnaby was at home, and had
company. In the room known as the library, four men sat smoking; their
voices pealed into the hall as the door opened, and a boisterous welcome
greeted the newcomer's appearance.

'Come to condole?' cried Hugh, striding forward with his
man-of-the-wide-world air, and holding out his big hand. 'No doubt
they're having a high old time at the club. Does it please them? Does it
tickle them?'

'Why, naturally. There's the compensation, my boy -- you contribute to
the gaiety of your friends.'

Carnaby was a fair example of the well-bred, well-fed Englishman --
tall, brawny, limber, not uncomely, with a red neck, a powerful jaw, and
a keen eye. Something more of repose, of self-possession, and a slightly