“Your habits, sir,” commented the doctor coldly, “are of no concern to us. You have insulted us, and, accordingly, you must abide by the consequences.” He thumped upon the arm of his chair. “Tomorrow, at 8.30, and if you and Luscombe don't show up to the minute, sharp, we shall know you are both afraid and the penalty will be degradation in the eyes of all here and a dinner at the ‘Bull’ for six on Saturday night.”
“All right!” laughed Luscombe, “we'll be here.” He turned to Spooner. “So, I'll call for you, my boy, at 8.15 sharp, and bring you along in my car.” He nodded grimly. “And if you're not dressed when I appear before your house, you'll come as you are. Understand?”
Spooner grunted stertorously. “But it'll kill me!” he groaned. “The morning air will be deadly to my constitution!”
