A hurt, incredulous look came into Mr. Rushcroft's eyes. "Is it possible that you have forgotten the celebrated case of Rushcroft vs. Rushcroft, not more than six years back? Good Lord, man, it was one of the most sensational cases that ever—But I see that you do not recall it. You must have been abroad at the time. I don't believe I ever knew of a case being quite so admirably handled by the press as that one was. She got it after a bitter and protracted fight. Infidelity. Nothing so rotten as cruelty or desertion,—no sir!"
"Ahem!" coughed Miss Tilly.
"The dear old girl married again," sighed Mr. Rushcroft, helping himself to Barnes' butter. "Did very well, too. Man in the wine trade. He saves a great deal, you see, by getting it at cost, and I can assure you, on my word of honour, sir, that he'll find it quite an item. What is it, Mr. Bacon? Any word from New York?"
Mr. Bacon hovered near, perhaps hungrily.
"Our genial host has instructed me to say to his latest guest that the rates are two dollars a day, in advance, all dining-room checks payable on presentation," said Mr. Bacon, apologetically.
Rushcroft exploded. "A scurvy insult," he boomed. "Confound his—"
The new guest was amiable. He interrupted the outraged star. "Tell Mr. Jones that I shall settle promptly," he said, with a smile.
The "heavy leads" lowered his voice. "He told me that he had had a horrible thought."
"He never has anything else," said Mr. Rushcroft.
"It has just entered his bean that you may be an actor, Mr. Barnes," said Bacon.