t one's work. It must be added that Peter's
relative took precautions against irritation perhaps in excess of the
danger, as departing travellers about to whiz through foreign countries
mouth in phrase-books combinations of words they will never use. He was
at home in clear air and disliked to struggle either for breath or for
light. He had a dim sense that Peter felt some discomfort from him and
might have come now to tell him so; in which case he should be sorry for
the sufferer in various ways. But as soon as that aspirant began to
speak suspicion reverted to mere ancient kindness, and this in spite
of the fact that his speech had a slightly exaggerated promptitude,
like the promptitude of business, which might have denoted
self-consciousness. To Nick it quickly appeared better to be glad than
to be sorry: this simple argument was more than sufficient to make him
glad Peter was there.

"My dear fellow, it's an unpardonable hour, isn't it? I wasn't even sure
you'd be up, yet had to risk it, because my hours are numbered. I'm
going away to-morrow," Peter went on; "I've a thousand things to do.
I've had no talk with you this time such as we used to have of old (it's
an irreparable loss, but it's your fault, you know), and as I've got to
rush about all day I thought I'd just catch you before any one else
does."

"Some one has already caught me, but there's plenty of time," Nick
returned.

Peter all but asked a question--it fell short. "I see, I see. I'm sorry
to say I've only a few minutes at best."

"Man of crushing responsibilities, you've come to humiliate me!" his
companion cried. "I know all about it."

"It's more than I do then. That's not what I've come for, but I shall be
delighted if I humiliate you a little by the way. I've two things in
mind, and I'll mention the most difficult first. I came here the other
day--the day after my arrival in town."

"Ah yes, so you did; it was very good of you"--Nick remembered. "I ought
to have returned your visit or left a card or written my name--to have
done something in Great Stanhope Street, oughtn't I? You hadn't got this
new thing then, or I'd have 'called.'"

Peter eyed him a moment. "I say, what's the matter with you? Am I really
unforgivable for having taken that liberty?"

"What liberty?" Nick looked now quite innocent of care, and indeed his
visitor's allusion was not promptly clear. He was thinking for the
instant all of Biddy, of whom and whose secret inc