d
Rankin might have been as ill as he liked in _his_ dressing-room, if
he had had one. Even admitting that the nature of his calamity was
such as to place him beyond the pale of human sympathy, he thought
that Rankin might have borne himself with a somewhat better grace. And
why Maddox should have taken that preposterous tone--

Maddox explained himself as they left Sussex Square.

Rickman did not at first take in the explanation. He was thinking how
he could best circumvent Maddox's obvious intention of hailing a
hansom and putting him into it. He didn't want to confess that he
hadn't a shilling in his pocket. Coppers anybody may be short of, and
presently he meant to borrow twopence for a bus. Later on he would
have to ask for a loan of fifty pounds; for you can borrow pounds and
you can borrow pennies, but not shillings. Not at any rate if you are
starving.

"If I were you, Ricky," Maddox was saying. "I should go straight to
bed when you get home. You'll be all right in the morning."

"I'm all right now. I can't think what bowled me over."

"Ricky, the prevarication is unworthy of you. Without humbug, I think
you might keep off it a bit before you dine with people. It doesn't
matter about us, you know, but it's hardly the sort of thing Mrs.
Rankin's been accustomed to."

"Mrs. Rankin?"

"Well yes, I said Mrs. Rankin; but it's not about her I care--it's
about you. Of course you'll tell me to mind my own business, but I
wish--I wish to goodness you'd give it up--altogether. You did once,
why not again? Believe me the game isn't worth the candle." And he
said to himself, noting the sharp lines of his friend's haggard
figure, "It's killing him."

"I see," said Rickman slowly. In an instant he saw it all; the
monstrous and abominable suspicion that had rested upon him all the
evening. It explained everything. He saw, too, how every movement of
his own had lent itself to the intolerable inference. It was so
complete, so satisfactory, so comprehensive, that he could not wonder
that they had found no escape from it. He could find none himself.
There was no way by which he could establish the fact of his sobriety;
for it is the very nature of such accusations to feed upon defence.
Denial, whether humorous or indignant, would but condemn him more. The
very plausibility of the imputation acted on him as a despotic
suggestion. He began to feel that he must have been drunk at Rankin's;
that he was drunk now while he wa