At the interrupting tap upon the door, Sidwell voiced a languid "Come in," and merely shifted in his seat; but his big companion, with the hospitality of inebriation, had returned his glass unsteadily to the table and arisen. He had taken a couple of uncertain steps, as if to open the door, when, in answer to the summons, Ben Blair stepped inside. Hough halted with a suddenness which all but cost him his equilibrium. The expansive smile upon his face vanished, and he stared as though the bottomless pit had opened at his feet. For a fraction of a minute not one of the three men spoke or stirred, but in that time the steady blue eyes of the countryman took in the details of the scene--the luxurious furnishings, the condition of the two men--with the rapidity and minuteness of a sensitized plate. Ironic chance had chosen an unpropitious night for his call. Intoxication surrounding a bar, under the stimulus of numbers, and preceding or following some exciting event, he could understand, could, perhaps, condone; but this solitary dissipation, drunkenness for its own sake, was something new to him. The observing eyes fastened themselves upon the host's face. "In response to your invitation," he said evenly, "I've called." Sidwell roused himself. His face flushed. Despite the liquor in his brain, he felt the inauspicious chance of the meeting. "Glad you did," he said, with an attempt at ease. "Deucedly glad. I don't know of anyone in the world I'd rather see. Just speaking of you, weren't we?" he said, appealing to Hough. "By the way, Mr.--er--Blair, shake hands with Mr. Hough, Mr. Winston Hough. Mighty good fellow, Hough, but a bit melancholy. Needs cheering up a bit now and then. Needed it badly to-night--almost cried for it, in fact"; and the speaker smiled convivially. Hough extended his hand with elaborate formality. "Delighted to meet you," he managed to articulate. "Thank you," returned the other shortly. Sidwell meanwhile was bringing a third chair and glass. "Come over, gentlemen," he invited, "and we'll celebrate this, the proudest moment of my life. You drink, of course, Mr. Blair?" Ben did not stir. "Thank you, but I never drink," he said. "What!" Sidwell smiled sceptically. "A cattle-man, and not refresh yourself with good liquor? You refute all the precedents! Come over and take something!" Ben only looked at him steadily. "I repeat, I never drink," he said conclusively. Sidwell sat down, and Hough followed his lead. "All right, all right! Have a cigar, then. At least you smoke?" "Yes," assented Blair, "I smoke--sometimes." The host extended the box hospitably. "Help yourself. They're good ones, I'll answer for that. I import them myself."