Gilbert nodded. “I have given up the Foreign Office work,” he said quietly. “I want all the time I can get,” he went on, speaking rapidly. “I want every moment of the day for my own plans and my own schemes. You don’t know what it’s all about, my dear chap”--he laid his hand affectionately on the other’s shoulder--“but just believe that I am in urgent need of all the advice you can give me, and I only want the advice for which I ask.” “Which means that I am not to poke my nose in your business unless I have a special invitation card all printed and decorated. Very good,” laughed Leslie. “Now come along to my club. I suppose as a result of your brief married life you haven’t conceived a dislike to all clubs?” Gilbert made no answer, nor did they return again to the subject until they were ensconced in the spacious smoking-room of the Junior Terriers. For two hours the men sat there, Gilbert questioning eagerly, pointedly, jotting down notes upon a sheet of paper. The other answered, often with some difficulty, the running fire of questions which his friend put. “I didn’t know how little I knew,” confessed the young man ruefully, as Gilbert wrote down the last answer to the very last question. “What an encyclopædic questioner you are; you’re a born examiner, Gilbert.” Gilbert smiled faintly as he slipped the sheet of paper into his pocket. “By the way,” he said, as they were leaving the club, “I made my will this morning and I want you to be my executor.” Leslie pushed his hat back with a groan. “You’re the most cheerless bird I’ve met for quite a long time,” he said in exasperation. “You were married yesterday, you’re wandering round to-day with a face as long as an undertaker’s tout--I understand such interesting and picturesque individuals exist in the East End of London--you’ve chucked up the billet that’s bringing you in quite a lot of money, you’ve discussed investments, and you’ve made your will. You’re a most depressing devil!” Again Gilbert smiled: he was grimly amused. He shook hands with the young man before the club and called a taxi-cab to him. “I’m going to St. John’s Wood. I suppose you’re not going my way?” “I am relieved to hear that you are going to St. John’s Wood,” said the other with mock politeness. “I feared you were going to the nearest crematorium.”