here was
also a stout man of his acquaintance whose ambition it had been for
months to cross the bath by means of the swinging rings, and this
person, too, afforded him hardly less pleasure, as he always had to let
go at the fourth ring, if not the third, whence he plunged into the
water with a sound that, curiously enough, was more resonant than
sibilant.

At six, after looking through all the illustrated papers, he went out to
get his coat, and was presently in the thick of a heated argument with a
member of the committee on the subject of the new carpet in the front
hall. It was not fit, said Dick (searching for hyperboles), for even the
drawing-room of the "Cecil."

This argument made him a little later than he had intended, and, as he
came up in the lift, the attendant informed him, in the passionless
manner proper to such people, that the Mr. Kirkby who had been mentioned
had arrived and was waiting for him in his rooms.

(III)

Shortly before midnight Dick attempted to sum up the situation. They had
talked about Frank practically without ceasing, since Dick's man had set
coffee on the table at nine o'clock, and both had learned new facts.

"Well, then, wire to go down to this man, Parham-Carter," said Dick,
"the first thing after breakfast to-morrow. Do you know anything about
the Eton Mission?"

"No. One used to have a collection for it each half, you know, in the
houses."

"How do we go?"

"Oh! railway from Broad Street. I've looked it up. Victoria Park's the
station."

Dick drew two or three draughts of smoke from his cigar-butt, and laid
it down in a small silver tray at his elbow. (The tray was a gift from
the old lady he had lunched with to-day.)

"All you've told me is extraordinarily interesting," he said. "It really
was to get away this girl that he's stopped so long?"

"I expect that's what he tells himself--that's the handle, so to speak.
But it's chiefly a sort of obstinacy. He said he would go on the roads,
and so he's gone."

"I rather like that, you know," said Dick.

Jack snorted a little.

"Oh, it's better than saying a thing and not doing it. But why say it?"

"Oh! one must do something," said Dick. "At least, some people seem to
think so. And I rather envy them, you know. I'm afraid I don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do anything. Unless you can call this sort of thing doing
something." He waved his hand vaguely round his perfectly arranged
room.

Jack said nothing. He