Tears rushed into his eyes and he gripped my hand until I winced. I put my other hand on his shoulder and laughed with a contorted visage. “My good Dale, the moribund are fragile.” “Oh, Lord, man, how can you make a jest of it?” “Would you have me drive about in a hearse, instead of a cab, by way of preparation?” “But what have the doctors told you?” asked Lola. “My two dear people!” I cried, “for goodness' sake don't fall over me in this way. I'm not going to die to-morrow unless my cook poisons me or I'm struck by lightning. I'm going to live for a deuce of a time yet. A couple of weeks at least. And you'll very much oblige me by not whispering a word abroad about what you've heard this afternoon. It would cause me infinite annoyance. And meanwhile I suggest to you, Dale, as the lawyers say, that you have been impolite enough not to say how-do-you-do to your hostess.” He turned to her rather sheepishly, and apologised. My news had bowled him over, he declared. He shook hands with her, laughed and walked Adolphus about on his hind legs. “But where have you dropped from?” she asked. “Berlin. I came straight through. Didn't you get my wire?” “No.” “I sent one.” “I never got it.” He swung his arms about in a fine rage. “If ever I get hold of that son of Satan I'll murder him. He was covered up to his beastly eyebrows in silver lace and swords and whistles and medals and things. He walked up and down the railway station as if he owned the German navy and ran trains as a genteel hobby. I gave him ten marks to send the telegram. The miserable beast has sneaked the lot. I'll get at the railway company through the Embassy and have the brute sacked and put in prison. Did you ever hear of such a skunk?” “He must have thought you a very simple and charming young Englishman,” said I. “You've done the same thing yourself!” he retorted indignantly. “Pardon me,” said I. “If I do send a telegram in that loose way, I choose a humble and honest-looking porter and give him the exact fee for the telegram and a winning smile.” “Rot!” said Dale, and turning to Lola--“He has demoralised the whole railway system of Europe with his tips. I've seen him give a franc to the black greasy devil that bangs at the carriage wheels with a bit of iron. He would give anybody anything.” He had recovered his boyish pride in my ridiculous idiosyncracies, and was in process of illustrating again to Lola what a “splendid chap” I was. Poor lad! If he only knew what a treacherous, traitorous, Machiavelli of a hero he had got. For the moment I suffered from a nasty crick in the conscience. “Wouldn't he, Adolphus, you celestial old blackguard?” he laughed. Then suddenly: “My hat! You two are fond of darkness! It gives me the creeps. Do you mind, Lola, if I turn on the light?”