“Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. “It is a pity that as nations we are not more friendly. He chuckled. I was afraid of being talked about. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. He drew an awed breath. His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure. She used to play violin, you know. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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