'Bring in your typewriter an' put it on my desk,' ordered Callaghan. 'An' I want a little cardboard box and a quarto manilla envelope—a stout one—an' some sealing-wax.' He looked at his watch. 'It's ten past seven,' he said. 'You tell Nikolas that he can go out an' get himself a drink an' come back here at a quarter to eight, an' you can go home.'
'Very well,' said Effie. 'Is there anything else?'
'Yes,' said Callaghan. 'There is. I don't want to be worried tomorrow mornin'. Just leave me alone an' don't bother me. I'm goin' to be late tonight. I shall want to sleep late.'
'Very well,' Effie repeated.
She had reached the door when he said:
'About Kells... telephone through to Gringall like I told you, at eleven o'clock tonight. You can do it from your place.'
Callaghan put a sheet of
