“Sure, I was in town on a matter of business, and I thought I must come to the club to see ye all while I was here, for ’tis not often I get the chance———”
Richard rose, gathering up his letters and stared across at this man who had been Jack’s greatest friend. He took a step towards him. As he did so, O’Hara turned and caught sight of him. Richard was about to hail him, when he suddenly noticed the change in his expression. The good humour died out of the Irishman’s eyes and left them hard and scornful. His pleasant mouth curved into a disdainful line. Carstares stood still, one hand on the back of a chair, his eyes rivetted to O’Hara’s face, reading all the reproach, the red-hot anger that Miles was trying to convey to him. O’Hara achieved a sneer and turned his shoulder, continuing to address his friends.
Richard’s head swam. O’Hara was ignoring him, would not speak to him. … O’Hara knew the truth! He walked blindly to the door, and groped for the handle. … O’Hara knew! He was in the passage, on the front steps, in the road, shuddering. O’Hara knew, and he had looked at him as if—as if—again he shuddered, and seeing an empty chair, hailed it, bidding the men carry him to Grosvenor Square. … O’Hara despised him!—reproached him! Then Jack was in trouble? He had seen him and learnt the truth? God, but his brain was reeling! …
