"Yes; with pleasure," I replied. "Clara has gone to the theatre with a friend. I am therefore free, and it was my intention to propose to you that we should spend the evening together."
"That's right; let us have supper at once, for I have something to tell you, and until I have done so I shall have no peace."
Monk rang; and soon after we sat down to supper. My host ate scarcely anything; indeed, he hardly attended to his duties as host, and could not conceal his impatience to hasten the end of the meal.
It was quite apparent that something unusual was the matter, so I got through my supper as quickly as possible without interchanging many words.
When we returned again to the sitting-room, Monk placed me in one of his comfortable chairs, and set before me some whiskey and water and cigars. He himself lit a cigar, but soon threw it half-smoked into the fire.
"You said you wanted to speak to me about something, Monk."
"Yes; if you have patience to listen to me."
"Of course I have!"
A faint smile lit up Monk's dark countenance.
"I have put your patience to a severe test over and over again with my lectures on detective science, logic, deductions, and the like; but what I have in mind this evening is nothing of that sort. Do you feel inclined to hear a story about myself, the story of how it was I came to be the kind of man I am, and to lead the life I do?"