“Why, naturally. But he made a hard bargain. When he had money, he was generous in a spasmodic sort of way; he would stand you any amount of food and drink, but he was never fond of parting with actual cash. The sort of man that would give you a dinner costing five pounds, and button up his pockets when you asked him for the loan of a quid. He said he’d try and find me a good job, and in the meantime he would allow me four pounds a week.” “I should say you found it a tight fit,” remarked Grewgus, thinking of his companion’s fondness for liquid refreshment. “You never spoke a truer word. But I couldn’t get him higher. He pretended that he was frightfully hard up, and that any moment he might have to give up his fine house. Of course, he knew I wasn’t in a position to bargain.” A smile of reminiscence stole over the Colonial’s face as he continued: “I’m afraid I didn’t behave very well on that visit. He had on a swell dinner-party that night, which of course I didn’t expect to be present at, I wasn’t dressed for the part. I had a fine dinner by myself, and after his guests had gone, he came in and chatted with me for a few minutes, and set a bottle of whisky in front of me before he left. “I’d been going very much on the teetotal lately, through lack of the ready, and when I saw that tempting bottle before me, I went at it with a vengeance. When I take a drop too much, I get quarrelsome, the stuff brings the worst of me to the surface. I began to think he wasn’t treating me too courteously, and I followed him into the billiard-room to have it out with him. “He smoothed me down after a bit, and I had some more drink--there was plenty of it about--and I got from the quarrelsome into the stupid stage. I made a silly reference to a little prank of ours when we followed up a young greenhorn with a view to relieving him of some of his money. Luckily, he stopped me in time; his niece and her young man were there, but of course it was a silly thing to do. I think he was afraid of me from that moment, was never sure of what I might let out when I was in the same condition.” Grewgus interrupted the flow of reminiscences relating to that embarrassing visit to Effington Hall. “Now tell me, please, all that took place on that day when Stormont took you to the restaurant.” The Colonial’s face darkened at the allusion. “The scoundrel showed his usual cunning. You know of that little scene that occurred outside the house in that street, the name of which I never can remember. Ah, yes, Curzon Street. You remember how upset I was about it, how very near I was to giving him away on the evening you came across me. Well, I suppose Stormont had been thinking it over too, and came to the conclusion he had gone too far, offended me beyond forgiveness. Well, the next day, while I was brooding over it, he walks into my room, with his hand outstretched, and smiling all over his red face.