"I thought that we might as well do the thing properly while we were about it," was the reply. In one of his permutations Cornelius had occupied the post of butler in a wine merchant's family, and he had learned something of the niceties of brands and vintages, though in this respect he could not claim to the connoisseurship of Under, whose thirty years in the best families had left him little to learn on the subject.
Under emptied his glass, the attentive waiter refilled it. He lounged back in his chair, and drew a long breath of delight. The wine filled him with a pleasant sense of exhilaration. He was quite wide awake now. He looked about him. Here and there at tables were the faces of people he knew; he could count three of his previous employers, and a dozen others to whose wants he had at one time or another ministered. He turned to Jessel and began to tell him items of scandal respecting the diners at the other tables. Course followed course. The first bottle of champagne was followed by a second. His tongue tripped a little by the time that was finished. He had entirely forgotten the passage of time, forgotten also that at ten o'clock his master was expecting him. They wound up the dinner with liqueurs, coffee, and cigars. The room had nearly emptied when Jessel paid the bill and they rose to leave. When they came into the street, Under turned to his host.
"The finesh time've ever had in m' life," he remarked. "Never had sush time, ole f'ler."
A clock struck ten. "Had somethin' to do, f'get wa' it was," he remarked.
"Come and have another drink, and perhaps you'll remember," said Jessel. He had drunk but sparingly himself.
"Itsh my turn this time," said Under.
He took Jessel's arm, for he found the pavement a little unsteady. The two dropped first into one café, then into a second. The time slipped away. Under grew more incoherent in speech as he poured more drinks down his throat. Jessel thought it time for him to go home. He recalled to Under's befogged intelligence the fact that his employer would be expecting him.
"Tha'sh all ri'," said the valet, "goo' sort, my guv'nor. Let him wait a bit."
Jessel had no intention that Guy should wait any longer. He piloted his charge into the street again. The pavement was rockier than ever. Under lurched and fell into a puddle. When he picked himself up, Guy's coat was covered with mud. Guy's hat was also crushed and muddy. Cornelius called a cab, and they drove together to the Albany. They had great difficulty in passing the porter at the gate, but Jessel persuaded him to allow them to enter. He piloted his charge to the door of Guy's chambers. There he propped him against the door, and, pressing the electric button, drifted away into the shadows. Unseen himself, he watched the development of his plot. He saw the door open, and Under sprawl forward into the entrance hall. He heard Guy's sharp exclamation of amazement. That was all. The door closed. He waited some minutes longer, half expecting that Under would be thrust out then and there, but as nothing of the sort happened he betook himself homeward.
"I think you have done for yourself, my good Under," he murmured. "I suppose I had better let the Master know, so that he will be prepared." He felt no compunction at the thought that he had perhaps ruined a fellow-creature. His chief feeling was one of gratification at the artistic manner in which he had carried out his plans, to which was added satisfaction that his patron would pay the expenses of his evening's amusement without a murmur.