He wore a rather long, extremely
untidy beard, and his shirt-front as always was crumpled and worn.
Anything more unlike a doctor it would be hard to imagine. But he was a
clever one, nevertheless.
"Well, my talkative young parrot," he greeted West affectionately, "and
how are you?... And who's party is this, anyhow? Yours or Merriton's?
You seem to be putting yourself rather more to the fore than usual."
"Well, I'll soon be goin' aft," retorted West with a wide grin. "When old
Nigel gets his innings. He's as chockful of news as an egg is of meat."
West was one of the chosen few who had already heard of Nigel's
engagement, and he was rather like a gossipy old woman--but his friends
forgave it in him.
Merriton gave him a shove, and he fell back upon Wynne, emitting a
portentous groan.
"What the devil--?" began that gentleman, in a testy voice.
Tony grinned.
"Nigel was ever thus!" he murmured, with uplifted eyes.
"Shut up!" thundered Stark, clapping a hand over West's mouth, and he
subsided as the doorbell rang again, and Borkins ushered in Fordyce and
Lefroy, two slim-hipped, dapper young gentlemen with the stamp of the
army all over them.
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