“No,” he answered, “you are not `dead easy.' That's why I am going to broach another subject to you.”
Tembarom was refilling his pipe.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“Who, by the way, is Mr. Strangeways?”
He was deliberate and entirely unemotional. So was T. Tembarom when, with match applied to his tobacco, he replied between puffs as he lighted it:
“You can search me. You can search him, too, for that matter. He doesn't know who he is himself.”
“Bad luck for him!” remarked Palliser, and allowed a slight pause again. After it he added, “Did it ever strike you it might be good luck for somebody else?”
“Somebody else?” Tembarom puffed more slowly, perhaps because his pipe was lighted.
Palliser took some brandy in his soda.
“There are men, you know,” he suggested, “who can be spared by their relatives. I have some myself, by Jove!” he added with a laugh. “You keep him rather dark, don't you?”