"Brandy? I'll get it at once, sir," said Holmes, and was gone with the words.
Returning, he found Bertrand so far master of himself as to force a smile, but his face was ghastly. There was a blue, pinched look about his mouth that Holmes, reminiscent of his hospital days, did not like. He had seen that look before.
But the first taste of spirit dispelled it. Very courteously Bertrand thanked him.
"You are a good man, Holmes. And I think that you are my friend, yes?"
"Very pleased to do anything I can for you, sir," said Holmes.
"Ah! Then I will ask of you one little thing. It is that you remember that this weakness—this malady of a moment—remain a secret between us two—between—us—two. Vous comprenez; non?"
His eyes, very bright and searching, looked with a certain peremptoriness into the man's face, and Holmes, accustomed to obey, made instinctive response.
"You mean as I am not to mention it to Mr. Mordaunt, sir?"
"That is what I mean, Holmes."
"Very good, sir," said Holmes. "You're feeling better, I hope, sir?"