“As I live, Duke.”
The eyes fixed on the Honourable were searching. Sir Duke hesitated, then held out his hand. In a swift but cordial silence it was taken. Nothing more could be said then. It is only in plays where gentlemen freely discuss family affairs before a curious public. Pretty Pierre was busy with a decoction. Jo Gordineer was his associate. Shon had drawn back, and was apparently examining the indentations on his gold-pan.
“Shon, old fellow, come here,” said Sir Duke Lawless.
But Shon had received a shock. “It’s little I knew Sir Duke Lawless—” he said.
“It’s little you needed to know then, or need to know now, Shon, my friend. I’m Duke Lawless to you here and henceforth, as ever I was then, on the wallaby track.”
And Shon believed him. The glasses were ready.
“I’ll give the toast,” said the Honourable with a gentle gravity. “To Shon McGann and his Tobogan Ride!”
“I’ll drink to the first half of it with all my heart,” said Sir Duke. “It’s all I know about.”
“Amen to that divorce,” rejoined Shon.
“But were it not for the Tobogan Ride we shouldn’t have stopped here,” said the Honourable; “and where would this meeting have been?”