6Next morning Rulon was not in evidence. Sleeping it off, d**k supposed. d**k hung about the lounge of the Chester until eleven, and then, according to pre-arrangement, set off for Greatorex’s flat in Victoria street, to give an account of progress. d**k had still no idea of what he was going to do when the decisive moment arrived. He was just being carried along by the initial momentum he had acquired the day before.
Greatorex received him in a blue brocaded silk dressing-gown. This morning the sight of the elegant, slender fellow with the shallow black eyes affected d**k with an active distaste. Greatorex’s aristocratic anecdotes left him cold. There was something soft in the man along with his high and mighty manner. His voice, like the voices of so many elegant Englishmen (and their A
