"Look here, Smith," Mr. Moss went off at a tangent, "you want to know how I got acquainted with Count Poltavo—well, I'll tell you. There's a feller named Hyatt that I used to do a bit of business with. Quiet young feller who got marvellous tips—made a lot o' money, he did, all because he bowled out Poltavo—see?"
He stopped short, for it evidently dawned upon him that he was talking too much.
"He sent you, eh?" Mr. Moss jerked the point of a gold-mounted stick in the direction of Sir George's house. "Come down off his high 'orse"—the third "h" was too much for him—"and very wisely, very wisely." He shook his head with drunken gravity. "As a man of the world," he went on, "you bein' one an' me bein' another, it only remains to fix a meeting between self an' client—your client—an' I can give him a few tips."
"That," said T. B., "is precisely my desire." He had ever the happy knack of dealing satisfactorily with drunken men. "Now let us review the position."
"First of all," said Mr. Moss firmly, "who are these people?" He indicated Van Ingen and the detective. "If they're friends of yours, old feller, say the word"—and his gesture was generous—"friends of yours? Right!" Once more he became the man of affairs.
"Let us get at the bottom of the matter," said T. B. "Firstly, you wish to see Sir George Calliper?"
The young man, leaning against some happily placed railings, nodded several times.
"Although," T. B. went on, shaking his head reprovingly, "you are not exactly——"
"A bottle of fizz—a couple, nothing to cloud the mind," said the young man airily. "I've never been drunk in me life."
"It seems to me that I have heard that remark before," said T. B., "but that's beside the matter; you were talking about a man called Hyatt who bowled Poltavo."