The baron smiled and continued. “You may not be a financier, but I see from your glove that you know something about war. Sir Clifford here is curiously anxious that nobody should talk to me about the war.”
Marvin was silent.
“Young man, don’t you call it rather a joke that a man who has spent a lifetime to advance a navy should live to see his only grandson drowned when his favorite ship was sunk?”
“No, sir. I don’t call it a joke.”
The old man meditated. “He’s like his father, Sir Clifford. Says what he thinks. Give him a drink.”
The physician arose, but Marvin spoke.
“No need, Sir Clifford. I’m sufficiently excited by talking to his lordship. I’ve had a weak heart myself.”
Sir Clifford sat down, and his lordship resumed. “A weak heart, eh? Suppose you tell me more about yourself.”
“Well, sir, I fall into water whenever I get a chance. My chief fear in approaching your lordship was that I might fall into your moat while you were looking out the window, and that you would drop dead from shock.”
His lordship’s thin abdomen shook with amusement.