Michael took up the second glass and had barely taken a sip when quick, light footfalls approached. “Good Lord,” said he, “my wife! Here, Monty, quick,” placing the half-emptied glass in Denby’s hand and the one from which he had first drunk in Monty’s, “I count on you, boys,” he whispered, and then strode to the door and flung it open. “Are we intruders?” his wife asked. “You are delightfully welcome,” Denby cried. “Please come in.” “We thought you’d still be up,” Nora explained. “Michael said he was bringing you up some highballs.” “Great stuff,” Monty said, taking his cue, “best whiskey I ever tasted. Nothing like really old Bourbon after all.” Michael shot a glance of agonized reproach at the man who could make such a stupid mistake. “Monty,” he explained to his wife, who had caught this ingenuous remark and had looked at him inquiringly, “is still so filled with excitement that he doesn’t know old Scotch when he tastes it.” “Your husband is a noble abstainer,” Denby said quickly, to help them out, “we place temptation right before him and he resists.” “That’s my wife’s training,” said Harrington, smiling complacently. “I’m not so sure,” she returned. “Putting temptation before Michael, Mr. Denby, shows him just like old Adam--only Michael’s weakness is for grapes, not apples.” “We’ve come,” Nora reminded them, “to get a fourth at auction. We’re all too much excited to sleep. Mr. Denby, I’m sure you’re a wonderful player. Surely you must shine at something.” “Among my other deficiencies,” he confessed, “I don’t play bridge.” Nora sighed. “There remains only Monty. Monty,” she commanded, “you must play.” “Glad to!” he cried. “I like company, and I’m not tired either.” Suddenly he caught sight of Denby’s face. His look plainly said, “Refuse.” “In just a few minutes,” Monty stammered. “I was just figuring out something when you came in. How long will it take, Steve?” “Hardly five minutes,” Denby said. “It’s a gold-mine you see,” Monty explained laboriously, “and first it goes up, and then it goes down.” “I always strike an average,” Michael told him. “It’s the easiest way.” “Is it a good investment?” Alice demanded. She had a liking for taking small flutters with gold-mines. “You wouldn’t know one if you saw it,” her husband said, laughing. “I learnt what I know from you,” she reminded him. “I’d rather dance than bridge it,” Nora said impatiently, doing some rather elaborate maxixe steps very gracefully and humming a popular tune meanwhile. “Be quiet,” Alice warned her; “you’ll disturb Ethel.” “Has Miss Cartwright gone to bed?” Denby asked her. “She felt very tired,” Alice explained. “It’s wrong to go to bed so early,” Nora exclaimed. “It can’t be much after two.” She sang a few bars of another song much in vogue, but Alice stopped her again. “Hush, Nora, don’t you understand Ethel’s in the next room asleep, or trying to?” “I thought it was empty,” Nora said, in excuse for her burst of song.