The AdmissionThe bandage upon Mr. Hart’s nose — which had been expertly set — was gone. And he seemed to have lost some weight. Other than that, he looked much the same as the night I’d broken that nose some three months back: distressed, anxious, and concerned. “I’m astonished to see you here,” I said.
I was astonished that he dared to show his face here.
His face turned surprised in an amused sort of way, and he chuckled. “I must admit I’m astonished to be here. But I’d like to take you to dinner.”
It was a quarter to four, not yet time for tea. In Bridges, dinner was at eight. So we could only be going to his home at the Racetrack.
The past few months had cooled my anger towards him — somewhat. Perhaps it was time to put our cards on the table. I took up my hat and coat. “I trust yo
