Come and lunch with me at my club.

Then we will separate, to meet again at Liverpool Street.

Smith! Pack my traps for a week." Brett was in the hall now, but he suddenly stopped his companion.
"By the way, Hume, you may like to wire to Miss Layton.

My man will send the telegram for you." David Hume's barrier of proud reserve vanished from that instant.

The kindly familiarity of the barrister's words to one who, during many weary days, suspected all men of loathing him as a murderer at large, was directed by infinite tact.
Hume held out his hand, "You _are_ a good chap," he said..