"You what?" I don't doubt him, not for a second, because he doesn't look like a man making something up. He looks upset, and I do the only thing I can think of.

I lead him to the kitchen, force him into a chair, and put the kettle on for tea. I take out two cups and a flask of whisky, and pour a generous measure into the one I set in front of him. That'll do until there's tea.

"You went to the Americas without me? Since yesterday?" The second is probably the more valid point.