"Were you cut off sudden?" asked the secretary, reaching for the decanter, as the three of us sat round the octagonal table.
"So suddenly," I replied, "that I never knew who it was who rang me up. No, thank you—not any for me."
"What!" cried Maguire, raising a depressed head suddenly. "You won't have a drink in my house? Take care, young man. That's not being a good boy!"
"But I've been dining out," I expostulated, "and had my whack. I really have."
Barney Maguire smote the table with terrific fist.
"Say, sonny, I like you a lot," said he. "But I shan't like you any if you're not a good boy!"
"Very well, very well," I said hurriedly. "One finger, if I must."
And the secretary helped me to not more than two.
"Why should it have been your friend Raffles?" he inquired, returning remorselessly to the charge, while Maguire roared "Drink up!" and then drooped once more.
"I was half asleep," I answered, "and he was the first person who occurred to me. We are both on the telephone, you see. And we had made a bet—"