"Can I speak to you?" Archie asked.
Slowly West turned.
"If you have anything of importance to say," he said.
Archie faced him with a desperate resolution.
"I want to ask you--I want to know--what in thunder you did it for!"
"Eh?" said West. "Did what?"
He almost drawled the words, as if to give the boy time to control his
agitation.
Archie stared at him incredulously.
"You must know what I mean."
"Haven't an idea."
There was just a tinge of contempt this time in the words. What an
unconscionable bungler the fellow was!
"But you must!" persisted Archie, blundering wildly. "I suppose you knew
what you were doing just now when--when----"
"I generally know what I am doing," observed West.
"Then why----"
Archie stumbled again, and fell silent, as if he had hurt himself.
"I don't always care to discuss my motives," said West very decidedly.
"But surely--" Archie suddenly pulled up, realising that by this
spasmodic method he was making no headway. "Look here, sir," he said,
more quietly, "you've done a big thing for me to-night--a dashed fine
thing! Heaven only knows what you did it for, but----"
"I have done nothing whatever for you," said West shortly. "You make a
mistake."
"But you'll admit----"
"I admit nothing."
He made as if he would turn on his heel, but Archie caught him by the
arm.
"I know I'm a cur," he said.
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