Mr. Sabin nodded.
“Yet,” he suggested, “your visit has an object. To discover my plans perhaps! You are welcome to them.”
Felix thoughtfully knocked the ashes off his cigarette.
“My visit had an object,” he admitted, “but it was a personal one. I am not actually concerned in the doings of those whom you have called my friends.”
“We are alone,” Mr. Sabin reminded him. “My time is yours.”
“You and I,” Felix said, “have had our periods of bitter enmity. With your marriage to Lucille these, so far as I am concerned, ended for ever. I will even admit that in my younger days I was prejudiced against you. That has passed away. You have been all your days a bold and unscrupulous schemer, but ends have at any rate been worthy ones. To-day I am able to regard you with feelings of friendliness. You are the husband of my dear sister, and for years I know that you made her very happy. I ask you, will you believe in this statement of my attitude towards you?”
“I do not for a single moment doubt it,” Mr. Sabin answered.
“You will regard the advice which I am going to offer as disinterested?”
“Certainly!”
“Then I offer it to you earnestly, and with my whole heart. Take the next steamer and go back to America.”