on. Follow me, old son.' With a few expert swings of the billiard
cue, he knocked the glass from the window beside him, and stepped
lightly and unruffled into the darkened garden.
Jake strode along the unlit footpath under the dark jacaranda trees. He
followed the main road out towards his camp beside the stream. The
outraged cries and the sound of police whistles had long since died
away in the night behind.
Jake's anger had also died away, and he chuckled once as he thought of
the peer's purple face and his bulging affronted eyes. Then behind
him, following along the dark street, he heard the rhythmic squeak of
the springs of a ricksha, and the pad of bare feet.
Even before he looked back, he knew who was following.
'Thought I'd lost you,' Gareth Swales remarked lightly, his handsome
noble features lit by the glow of the cheroot between his teeth as he
lolled against the cushions of the ricksha. 'You took off like a long
dog after a bitch. fantastic turn of speed. I was very impressed.'
Jake said nothing, but strode on towards his camp.
'You can't possibly be bound for bed.' The ricksha kept station beside
Jake. 'The night is still a pup and who can say what beautiful
thoughts and stirring deeds Care still to be thought and performed.'
Jake tried not to grin, and kept going.
'Madame Cecile's?'Gareth wheedled.
'You really do want those cars don't you?'
'I am hurt,'
announced Gareth, 'that you should imply gross materialism to my
friendly overtures.'
'Who is paying? 'demanded Jake.
'You are my guest.'
'Well, I've drunk your beer, eaten your food why should I stop now?' He
stopped and walked to the ricksha. 'Move over, then, he said.
The ricksha driver wheeled in a tight turn and trotted back into the
town, while Gareth pressed a cheroot between Jake's lips.
'What did you deal yourself?' Jake asked, between puffs of the
fragrant smoke. 'Four aces? Straight flush?'
'I am appalled at the implied slur on my character, sir. I shall
ignore the question.' They jogged a little farther in silence until it
was Gareth's turn to ask the next question.
'You didn't really roast that poor fellow's chestnuts, did you?'
No, 'Jake admitted. 'But it made a better story.' They reached the
door of Madame Cecile's, discreetly set back in a walled garden, with a
lamp burning over the lintel.
Gareth paused with his hand on the brass knocker.
'You know damned if I don't owe you an apology. I've misjudged you all
along the line.'
'It's been a lot of laughs.'
'I think I'm going to have to be honest with you.'
'I don't know if I can stand the shock.' They grinned at each other
and Gareth punched his shoulder lightly.
'It's still my treat, what?' Madame Cecile was so tall and thin and
bosorriless that she seemed in danger of snapping off like a brittle
