"Nonsense!" ejaculated Brown. "I am in earnest. Just put yourself in her position."
"For my part I had rather not," replied Goss with a smile. "But I agree with Brown. A more unmitigated blackguard than John Darche never breathed the unholy air of Wall Street. The only decent thing about him was his suicide, and now virtue is to be cheated of that."
"Mrs. Darche never speaks of him, I believe?" The question came from Bewlay.
"He did not return the civility," said Goss. "I have heard him talk about his wife in this very room—well—I won't say how, but he was a brute."
"Judging from your language you must be talking about Darche," said a fifth speaker. Vanbrugh had entered the room.
"Yes," answered Brown, "we were. The damning was going on, but we had not got to the faint praise. What do you think about all this, Vanbrugh?"
"The question must be settled one way or the other before to-night," answered the last comer. "If Darche is really alive the fact must be kept quiet until to-morrow and then some one must tell his wife. I propose that we elect a committee of action, give up our dinner parties if we have any, and go and find the fellow."
"That sounds like good advice," said Brown.
"We might as well look for a Chinaman in Pekin," put in Greene, "as to try to hunt out any particular tough in the Bowery at this time of day."
"We can try any way," said Mr. Brown, who was of a hopeful temperament. "I am not engaged to dine anywhere, are you, Vanbrugh?"