He smiled at that. "He will be a greater man than I am," he said.
"An interesting collection!" commented Nick. "Heroes past, present, and to come! You will pardon me for putting myself first. My little halo went out long ago."
"Nick! How absurd you are!"
"My dear, it's my rôle to be absurd. I am the clown in every tragedy I come across—the comic relief man—the buffoon in every side-show. Hence my Frontier laurels, because I kept on dancing when everyone else was dead. The world likes dancers—virtuous or otherwise." Nick broke off with his elastic grimace. "If I go on, you'll think I'm trying to be clever. Sir Kersley, come and have a drink!"
"I'm bringing drinks," said Max's voice from the hall. "I say, Ratcliffe,"—he entered with the words—"do go and dislodge that leech Goring. He's in the garden with Miss Campion. Tell him I don't want to see either him or his beastly thumb for a week. I'll call in next Sunday, if I've nothing better to do. Say I'm engaged if he asks for me now."
"I'll say you're dead if you like," said Nick cheerily. "Shall I say you're dead too, Olga?"
"Say she's engaged also," said Max.
Olga glanced up sharply, but he was not looking at her. He was occupied in pouring out a drink for his friend, which he brought to him almost immediately.
"That's how you like it measured to a drop. Sorry there's no ice to be had. It doesn't grow in these parts."
"I'd have got out the best glass if I'd known," murmured Olga regretfully.