"There's a plate due to
arrive to-morrow; it represents a section of the side armour of one of
the new 22,000-ton battleships. . . . I hope to crack it."
"Oh!--with a bursting charge?"
Selwyn nodded, and rested his head on his hand.
A little later Austin cast the remains of his cigar from him,
straightened up, yawned, patted his waistcoat, and looked wisely at the
cat.
"I'm going to bed," he announced. "Boots is to bring back Nina
and Eileen. . . . You don't mind, do you, Phil? I've a busy day
to-morrow. . . . There's Scotch over there--you know where things are.
Ring if you have a sudden desire for anything funny like peacock
feathers on toast. There's cold grouse somewhere underground if you're
going to be an owl. . . . And don't feed that cat on the rugs. . . .
Good-night."
"Good-night," nodded Selwyn, relighting his cigar.
He had no intention of remaining very long; he supposed that his sister
and Eileen would be out late, wherever they were, and he merely meant to
dream a bit longer before going back to bed.
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