"Not quite so high as that," I answered. "I have my ambitions, I will admit, but I am afraid that the Premiership is scarcely the one that will be likely to be realised."
One thing was quite certain: Rotherhithe was in the most excellent spirits. His honest, manly face was wreathed in smiles, and had an artist been present he might have used it for the personification of Happiness. Throughout the meal he laughed and joked continually, recalled old days, old escapades, long since forgotten on my side, and vowed that we were both of us growing younger instead of older. That there was something unusual about it all I could plainly see, but what that something was I had not then the least idea. My suspicions, however, were aroused very soon.
"By the way," I said, when we had finished lunch, "let me tell you that I have lately had the pleasure to be of some service to an old friend of yours."
"An old friend of mine?" he said, with what I could not help thinking was pretended surprise. "Who is the friend?"
"The Countess de Venetza," I replied. "The lady whose wealth and beauty have made her such a prominent figure in London Society of late. She told me that she had been yachting with you in the Mediterranean, and spoke quite feelingly of your kindness to herself and her father. Do you mean to tell me that you don't recollect her?"
"Recollect her? of course I do," he said, still with the same sheepish look upon his face. "Oh yes, I remember her well enough. And so you've been kind to her, have you?"
Here he laughed in a foolish fashion to himself.
"Umph!" I said to myself, "surely he cannot have been idiotic enough to have——"
I stopped myself abruptly. I knew very well that I should hear all the news he had to tell quite soon enough.
At last Thompson and the men left the room, and an expression of great solemnity took possession of my friend's countenance. What was more, he drew his chair a little closer to mine.