“Oh, a dream! Good night, Dr Koomadhi,” said the Commissioner. “I’m sorry that anything should happen——”
“Don’t say another word, sir, I entreat of you,” cried Koomadhi. “I fear that I was, after all, the most to blame. I should have known where this sort of horse-play was likely to land us. Good night, sir; I really feel that an apology should come from me. Good night, Minton. No, no; don’t say a word. I feel that I have disgraced myself for ever.”
Minton, now clothed and in his right mind, saw him off, and then returned to the presence of his father-in-law. He knew that the Commissioner was desirous of having a word or two with him, and he was not the man to run away from such an interview. In fact, he himself was anxious to have the first word; and he had it.
“Look here, sir,” he said; “I want to say that I know I made an infernal fool of myself. Why I did it I can’t tell; I touched nothing but soda-water all night.”
“Then there is the less excuse for your behaviour,” said the Commissioner drily. “I don’t want to say anything more about this unhappy business. Only, I will point out to you that Koomadhi could easily make things very disagreeable for us if he were so minded. You threw him on the floor. Heavens above!”
“I suppose I did throw him; but why?—why?—why?—that’s what I want to know.”
“Perhaps an explanation may come to you in the course of a day or two. You had better go to bed now.”
“Yes; I’ll go to bed. Only—of course there’s no reason why you should let the matter go farther.”
“I certainly, for my own sake and yours, will keep it as secret as possible. I only hope that Koomadhi——”
“Oh, Koomadhi is all right. But I don’t see that Gertrude or Letts should hear anything of it.”