“But, Bob, surely—surely you know that if you’re in trouble, I can’t keep out.”

“You needn’t jump in with both feet.” Allen’s voice was harsh and dry. “Stop this idea of the police, Bar. It won’t help. Might do a lot more harm. I’ve a chance of getting through. Saturday should tell.”

“Saturday?” She felt a flare of hope. “This Saturday?”

“Yes. So he said. Believe it or not, I don’t know him, but he knows a lot about me. Knows I once did a crazy thing.” He paused. “Forget it until Saturday. I’ll try to behave like a rational human being until then.”

It was tempting to press questions because he was in a mood when he might talk freely. On the other hand, they might send him back into his shell again, and this was the first time he had talked about it at all. She forced herself to accept his mood.

“All right, darling,” she said. “I will.”

The “darling” brought a hoarse cry to his lips. He gripped her hands again and this time pulled her close; they strained against each other. His hands played with her hair, with her shoulders, his fingers pressing deep into her flesh. When at last he let her go, a ghost of the old smile played at the corner of his lips and there was a brighter light in his eyes.

“Believe it or not,” he said, “I love you.”

“Talking of my foul innuendo, as one might say, ever see anything of Snub these days?” asked Allen.

They were in the sitting-room. The sun had broken through the clouds, brightening the red of nearby chimneys and the blue tiles of the block of flats opposite. In the distance some trees were touched with gold. The view from the flat had never looked better; and not since his return, had Barbara felt so light-hearted. He had been almost himself for nearly an hour.

“Snub?” echoed Barbara.

“Snub Higginbottom,” said Allen, grinning. “Don’t say you’ve forgotten——”

“Oh, Snub!” Her eyes lit up. “The last time he came up, was just after you’d been reported missing. What on earth made you think of him?”