There was a bottle of whiskey upon the table next to us, from which its occupant had been helping himself. He rose now to go, and I seized the opportunity the moment he had left, and before the waiter could clear the table I had secured the bottle.
"We won't risk soda-water," I said. "Whiskey and water is good enough."
The one waiter whom I disliked—a creature of Louis', as I knew well—came hurrying forward and endeavored to possess himself of the bottle.
"Let me get you another bottle of whiskey, sir," he said.
I shook my head.
"This one will do, thank you," I said.
"Soda-water or Perrier, sir?" he asked.
"Neither, thank you," I answered.
The man moved away, and I saw him in a corner talking to Louis. Lamartine served the grouse, and leaned across the table to me.
"Captain Rotherby," he said, "I think I will tell you now why, notwithstanding the risk of Monsieur Louis, I asked you to lunch with me here at this restaurant. But look! See who comes!"