. . . But, you see, I wasn't
certain he wouldn't sit down somewhere on top of Farrell. . . .
'Think he'll be home tonight?' asked the Professor. 'That's what I'm
allowing, in the circumstances,' said I. '--But you owe him some
apology, you know, because you've led him the devil of a dance.'
'Don't I realise _that!_' says he, like a man worried and much
affected. 'We'll call around to-night, on the chance of his turning
up to forgive us. Come along, Farrell!' says he.
"I whipped about; and there was Farrell, seated in that chair of
yours, bolt upright, smirking as foolish as a wet-nurse at a
christening! I couldn't have believed my eyes. . . . But there it
was--and after what I'd been listening to, five minutes before!
"As I'm describing it, it staggered me--and the more when the
Professor, looking past me, said, 'If you're ready, Farrell?' and
Farrell stood up, smiling and ready, and moved to join him.
But I kept what face I could.
"'You're going to look in again, you two?' I asked. The Professor
said 'Yes, on the chance that Roddy may turn up'; and he looked at
Farrell; and Farrell blinked and said, 'Yes, we owe him an
explanation, of course.
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