Two nights later in a private room at the Piccadilly, after dinner, when the champagne and liqueurs had got into Curtis's head and he was leaning back in his chair, smiling and silly, Hamar suddenly said, "Ed! you remember what I told you--about watching Kelson. Have you discovered anything?" "Shupposing I have," Curtis replied, "shupposing I haven't--whatch then?" "Ah, but I know you have," Hamar said, striving to hide his eagerness. "Come, tell me, another liqueur--I'll square it with the Unknown--it won't hurt you!" "Won't it!" Curtis gurgled. "Wont'ch it! I'll tell you everything. No--nothingsh, I mean." But Hamar when once he had smelt a rat, was not easily put off. He coaxed, and coaxed, and eventually succeeded. "Leonsh!" Curtis said, with a sudden burst of drunken confidence. "Leonsh! it's worse than either you or I shuspected. I caught them alone this morning--in my offish." "Them! Rosenberg and Matt!" "Yesh, of course, shilly! I told Matt I was going out. He thought I had--so into the room I came--quite unshuspected, unobsherved. She was sitting on hish knees, cuddling--and he was putting a ring on her finger. 'Four more days, darling,' shays he, 'and we are married! Jerushalem! Damn the Compact and damnsh Hamar!' 'Hamar doesn't shuspect, does he?' Rosenberg shays. 'Not a bit--not in the slightest,' old Matt replieshes, 'why it is I who amsh brave now.' Then he kisshes her, and fearing they would detect my presence, I slipsh quietly out." "Will you swear this is true?" Leon said, his voice trembling with excitement. "I'll schwear it!" Curtis answered, "but you look crossh. Whatsh the matter, Leon? _God! What's the matter!_" An hour later, as Kelson was rising from his chair in front of the fire to gaze, for the hundredth time that evening, into the eyes of Lilian Rosenberg's portrait on the mantelshelf, the door of his room flew open and in staggered Curtis--white, wet and bloated. "Great heavens!" Kelson cried. "What the deuce have you been doing to yourself? You look a perfect devil!" "I am one!" Curtis groaned. "I am one, Matt! I've given your show away." "My show away! Why, what the deuce do you mean?" In a string of broken sentences Curtis explained what had happened. "I'm damned sorry, Matt, old man," he pleaded. "It was the drink that did it--I didn't know what I was saying till it was too late--till I saw Leon's face--and that cleared my brain--brought me to myself. It was hellish. I remember the moment I mentioned the word marriage--he sprang up from his chair, and as he hurried out, I heard him mutter, 'I'll go to her straight--I'll--' Matt, old man, he meant mischief. I'm certain of it. Come with me to her flat--for God's sake--COME." And catching hold of Kelson, who leaned against the mantelshelf, dazed and stupefied, he dragged him into the street.