"
"What's the word again?"
"Tort."
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know. Probably nobody knows. But it's a safe card to play.
Tort. Don't forget it."
"Tort. Right ho!"
"Well, then, come along and pack your things. There's a train to London
in about an hour."
They walked back to the hotel. Sam gulped once or twice.
"Oh, by the way," he said, "Er--how is--er--Miss Bennett?"
"Oh, she's all right." Eustace Hignett hummed a gay air. Sam's ready
acquiescence in his scheme had relieved his apprehensive mind.
"Going strong?" said Sam, after a pause.
"Oh, absolutely. We're quite good friends again now. No use being in
the same house and not being on speaking terms. It's rummy how the
passage of time sort of changes a fellow's point of view. Why, when she
told me about her engagement, I congratulated her as cheerfully as
dammit! And only a few weeks ago...."
"Her engagement!" exclaimed Sam, leaping like a stricken blanc-mange.
"Her en-gug-gug-gagement!"
"To Bream Mortimer, you know," said Eustace Hignett.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153