had been with him at San Sebastian, and it made him rather awkward.
"Well," I said, "Brett and Mike ought to get in to-night."
"I'm not sure they'll come," Cohn said.
"Why not?" Bill said. "Of course they'll come."
"They're always late," I said.
"I rather think they're not coming," Robert Cohn said.
He said it with an air of superior knowledge that irritated both of us.
"I'll bet you fifty pesetas they're here to-night," Bill said. He always bets when he is angered, and so he usually bets foolishly.
"I'll take it," Cohn said. "Good. You remember it, Jake. Fifty pesetas."
"I'll remember it myself," Bill said. I saw he was angry and wanted to smooth him down.
"It's a sure thing they'll come," I said. "But maybe not to-night."
"Want to call it off?" Cohn asked.
"No. Why should I? Make it a hundred if you like."
"All right. I'll take that."
"That's enough," I said. "Or you'll have to make a book and give me some of it."
"I'm satisfied," Cohn said. He smiled. "You'll probably win it back at bridge, anyway."
"You haven't got it yet," Bill said.
We went out to walk around under the arcade to the Café Iruña for coffee. Cohn said he was going over and get a shave.
"Say," Bill said to me, "have I got any chance on that bet?"
"You've got a rotten chance. They've never been on time anywhere. If their money doesn't come it's a cinch they won't get in to-night."
"I was sorry as soon as I opened my mouth. But I had to call him. He's all right, I guess, but where does he get this inside
