Mr. Newcombe hesitated for a second, then accepted. Grewgus had judged his condition pretty accurately. He had had too much when he stood outside the house in Curzon Street; the abuse hurled at him by Stormont, and the indignation it created, had momentarily sobered him. But another glass or two would stir up the old drink and reduce him to his previous condition. When he got back to that he would be disposed to talk. The second tumbler accomplished the desired result. The detective saw he could now get to work. “I’ve just strolled down from Curzon Street, and it was the sight of a big party going on at one of the houses that set me thinking. Motor-cars galore waiting for the beautiful ladies with frocks that cost a small fortune, men coming out with their expensive suits. It gave me the hump, it did, so I cut it and dropped into the first public I could come across.” Newcombe looked at him with a perfectly unsuspicious eye. “Was you there too? So was I. Did you happen to see me?” “No,” answered the detective unblushingly, feeling that he was lying in a good cause. “Rather rum that when you come to think of it, isn’t it? That we should be looking at the same thing, and then meeting a few minutes after in this place, I suppose for the same reason, that we both felt a trifle dry. I say, we’d better have another. I always feel reckless when I’m a bit fed up.” The Colonial accepted the hospitality for the second time. Grewgus went to the counter to get the drinks; he did not wish the Colonial to entertain any doubts of his own sobriety, which was fast tottering under the last glass. When he returned, Mr. Newcombe began to give vent to some of the thoughts that were harrowing his indignant soul. “It isn’t often I come in these parts--I live King’s Cross way. But it being a fine day, I thought I’d just take a stroll up here, and have a look at the nobs. Well, I wandered about a lot, then I sat down in the Park, and afterwards I got into that street where you were. I forget what you said the name of it was.” Grewgus supplied the necessary information, and the Colonial rambled on, in a voice that grew thicker as he proceeded. “Well, presently I come to that house where the show was. I stood looking at the motor-cars and the dainty ladies stepping into them. Suddenly I see come out a man I have known for years, with his sister and niece. He was a pal of mine in Australia when we were both young men. Many a good turn I done him, once I nursed him back to life through a bad fever. Well, remembering the good old days, I go up to him in a cheery sort of way. And what do you think I get in return?” “Haven’t the slightest idea,” replied the mendacious Grewgus. “He called me a drunken dog, a drunken dog, and dared me to speak to him in the street or anywhere else. What do you say to that?”