He came forward to meet me, hand outstretched, a sunny smile lighting up his face. “The one person I am glad to see in this infernal place.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What’s the place been doing?”
He gave a vexed laugh. “It’s a long story. Things haven’t been going well with me, doctor. But have a drink, won’t you?”
“Thanks,” I said, “I will.”
He pressed the bell, then, coming back, threw himself into a chair.
“Not to mince matters,” he said gloomily, “I’m in the devil of a mess. In fact, I haven’t the least idea what to do next.”
“What’s the matter?” I asked sympathetically.
“It’s my confounded stepfather.”
“What has he done?”
“It isn’t what he’s done yet, but what he’s likely to do.”
The bell was answered, and Ralph ordered the drinks. When the man had gone again, he sat hunched in the armchair, frowning to himself.
“Is it really—serious?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m fairly up against it this time,” he said soberly.
The unusual ring of gravity in his voice told me that he spoke the truth. It took a good deal to make Ralph grave.
“In fact,” he continued, “I can’t see my way ahead … I’m damned if I can.”
“If I could help—” I suggested diffidently.