"Yes," said Jimmy, thinking that explained all.
"It was a terrible nuisance," pattered on Mr. Kirby, as he led the boy outside to a cab; "that 's the worst of the telephone. It 's a great help in one way, but … Why, you haven't brought a bag!"
"No," said Jimmy. "I shall go back by the night mail."
"As you will, my dear sir," said the lawyer.
He gave the address of his house, and they drove off.
When they got into the study and were served with drink, Jimmy remembered his anxieties. He considered that imperative message and that hurried journey. The business must be very urgent indeed. He was the more certain of it as he watched Mr. Kirby's face change to an expression more settled and less familiar. As Mr. Kirby said nothing, Jimmy volunteered another remark.
"I was giving young Brassington a dinner," he said. "Perhaps you know him? He was at King's with me." Mr. Kirby said nothing. "He belongs to this town," added Jimmy.
Mr. Kirby opened fire in a grave and measured voice.
