Roger said judicially, leaning back against the railing that bordered the roof. “The deuce you do, Roger. That’s very kind of you.” “Don’t get heated. I was only thinking that men have been hanged before now, because their explanations weren’t accepted. Many, many men, Colin.” “Have you brought me up here in the cold just to tell me that?” “We’ll go into the sun-parlour, if you prefer it,” Roger said kindly. “I do prefer it. I’ve reached the age when I appreciate comfort.” Colin Nicolson was an elderly and disillusioned twenty-eight. They went down the steps to the sun-parlour, switched on the light, and found two chairs. “Well now, what’s on your mind, Roger?” Colin asked when they were settled. “Why should you think anything’s on my mind?” “I know the signs. You’re like an old warhorse that smells the powder. Surely you’re not trying to twist this business into anything serious?” “I should have thought,” Roger said mildly, “that it was quite serious enough already.”
