Duncombe treated himself to a cocktail and a cigarette as he changed his clothes.

It was positively the first gleam of hope he had had.

And then suddenly he remembered Spencer's warning, and he became grave.
He was at the Cafe Sylvain early.

He ordered dinner, gave elaborate instructions about a young lady when she arrived, and with a glass of absinthe and another cigarette sat down to wait.

At a quarter to eight he began to get restless.