“Then you should go yourself.”

“I promised I wouldn’t—­unless she asked me to.  If you were anything of a sport——­”

In the end Sangster consented to go.  He was not anxious to undertake the journey, much as he wanted to see Christine again.  At the end of the second week he went off early one morning without telling Jimmy of his intentions, and was back in town late the same night.  Jimmy was waiting for him in the rooms in the unfashionable part of Bloomsbury.  It struck Sangster for the first time that Jimmy was beginning to look old; his face was drawn—­his eyes looked worried.  He turned on his friend with a sort of rage when he entered.

“Why couldn’t you have told me where you were going.  Here I’ve been waiting about all day, wondering where you were and what was up.”

“I’ve been to see your wife—­and there’s nothing up.”

“You mean you didn’t see her?”

“Oh, yes, I did.”

“Well—­well!” Jimmy’s voice sounded as if his nerves were worn to rags; he could hardly keep still.

“She seemed very cheerful,” said Sangster slowly.  He spoke with care, as if he were choosing his words.  “Miss Leighton was with her; and we all had tea together.”

“At Upton House?”

“Yes.”

Jimmy’s eyes were gleaming.

“How does the old place look?” he asked eagerly.  “Gad! don’t I wish I’d got enough money to buy it myself.  You’ve no idea what a ripping fine time we used to have there years ago.”

“I’m sure you did; but—­well, as a matter of fact, I believe the house is sold.”

“Sold!”

“Yes; a man named Kettering—­a friend of your brother’s, I believe—­is negotiating for it, at any rate.  Whether the purchase is really completed or not, I——­”

“Kettering!” Jimmy’s voice sounded angry.  “Kettering—­that stuck-up ass!” he said savagely.

Sangster laughed.

“I shouldn’t have described him as stuck-up at all,” he said calmly.  “He struck me as being an extremely nice sort of fellow.”

“Was he there, then?”

“Yes—­he’s staying somewhere in the neighbourhood temporarily, I believe, from what I heard; at any rate, he seemed very friendly with—­with your wife and Miss Leighton.”

Jimmy began pacing the room.

“I remember him well,” he said darkly, after a moment.  “Big chap with a brown moustache—­pots of money.”  He walked the length of the room again.  “Christine ought not to encourage him,” he burst out presently.  “What on earth must people think, as I’m not there.”

“I don’t see any harm,” Sangster began mildly.

Jimmy rounded on him: 

“You—­you wouldn’t see harm in anything; but Christine’s a very attractive little thing, and——­” He broke off, flushing dully.  “Anyway, I won’t have it,” he added snappily.

“I don’t see how you’re going to stop it, unless——­”