"You do unnerstan', boys, don't you?" Enstone was articulating pathetically, with his arms spread around the shoulders of his guests in an affectionate manner which contributed helpfully towards his support. "It's jus' business. I'm not hardhearted. I'm kind to my wife an' children an' everything, God bless 'em. An' any time I can do anything for either of you — why, you jus' lemme know."
"That's awfully good of you, old man," said Hammel, with the blurry-eyed solemnity of his condition.
"Less have lunch together on Tuesday," suggested Costello. "We might be able to talk about something that'd interest you."
"Right," said Enstone dimly. "Lush Tooshday. Hic."
"An' don't forget the kids," said Hammel confidentially.
Enstone giggled.
"I shouldn't forget that!" In obscurely elaborate pantomime, he closed his fist with his forefinger extended and his thumb cocked vertically upwards, and aimed the forefinger between Hammel's eyes. "Shtick 'em up!" he commanded gravely, and at once relapsed into further merriment, in which his guests joined somewhat hysterically.
The group separated at the entrance amid much handshaking and back-slapping and alcoholic laughter; and Lewis Enstone wended his way back with cautious and preoccupied steps towards the lift. Mr. Teal took a fresh bite on his gum and tightened his mouth disgustedly.
"Is he staying here?" asked the Saint.
"He lives here," said the detective. "He's lived here even when we knew for a face that he hadn't got a penny to his name. Why, I remember once—"