“Rather. You were white--and queer altogether. I thought you ‘had it bad.’” There was a titter and a laugh, as the two men looked at one another and smiled. “Well, you’ve not often been wrong, Ham,” said Ralston, laughing too. “I don’t propose to let my guardian angel lead a life of happy idleness--” “Keep an angel, and save yourself,” suggested Miner. “Don’t make them laugh till I’ve finished,” said Ralston, “or they won’t understand. Well--Ham tried to hold me, and I wouldn’t be held. He’s about twenty times stronger than I am, anyhow, and he’d got hold of my arm--wanted to calm me before I went out, as he thought. I lost my temper--” “Your family’s been advertising a reward if it’s found, ever since you were born,” observed Miner. “Suppress that man, can’t you--somebody?” cried Ralston, good-naturedly. “So I tripped Bright up under Miner’s nose--and there was Crowdie there, and a couple of servants, so it was rather a public affair. I got out of the door, and made for the park--uncle Robert’s, you know. Being in a rage, I walked, and passing the Murray Hill Hotel, I went in, from sheer force of habit, and ordered a cocktail. I hadn’t more than tasted it when I remembered what I was about, and promptly did the Spartan dodge--to the surprise of the bar-tender--and put it down and went out. Then uncle Robert and I had rather a warm discussion. Unfortunately, too, just that drop of whiskey--forgive the details, Miss Van De Water--you know I warned you--just that drop of whiskey I had touched was distinctly perceptible to the old gentleman’s nostrils, and he began to call me names, and I got angry, and being excited already, I daresay he really thought I wasn’t sober. Anyhow, he managed to knock my hat out of my hand and smash it--ask him the first time you see him, if any of you doubt it.” “Oh, nobody doubts you, Jack,” said Teddy Van De Water, vehemently. “Don’t be an idiot!” “Thank you, Teddy,” laughed Ralston. “Well, the next thing was that I bolted out of the house with a smashed hat, and forgot my overcoat in my rage. It’s there still, hanging in uncle Robert’s hall. And, of course, being so angry, I never thought of my hat. It must have looked oddly enough. I went down Fifth Avenue, past the reservoir--nearly a mile in that state.” “I met you,” observed Russell Vanbrugh. “I was just coming home--been late down town. I thought you looked rather seedy, but you walked straight enough.” “Of course I did--being perfectly sober, and only angry. I must have turned into East Fortieth or Thirty-ninth, when I stopped to light a cigar. The waxlight dazzled me, I suppose, for when I went on I fell over something--that street is awfully dark after the avenue--and I hurt my head and my hand. This finger--” He held up his right hand of which one finger was encased in black silk. Katharine remembered the spot of blood on the letter.