"If you've nothing you want to do for half an hour or so, I wish you would walk a little way with me, old chap," he said. "I have got something to say to you that I must settle at once. This place has as long ears as the proverbial pitcher."
"All right," said Jimmy. "Come along; I'm your man, whatever you want."
They accordingly left the club together, and made their way down Pall Mall and across Waterloo Place into the Green Park. It was not until they had reached the comparative privacy of the latter place that Browne opened his mind to his friend.
"Look here, Jimmy," he said, "when all is said and done, you and I have known each other a good many years. Isn't that so?"
"Of course it is," said Jimmy, who noticed his friend's serious countenance, and was idly wondering what had occasioned it. "What is it you want to say to me? If I did not know you I should think you were hard up, and wanted to borrow five pounds. You look as grave as a judge."
"By Jove! so would you," said Browne, "if you'd got on your mind what I have on mine. It seems to me I've got to find some jolly good friend who'll see me through as delicate a bit of business as ever I heard of in my life. That's why I telephoned to you."
"Very complimentary of you, I'm sure," said Jimmy. "But I think you know you can rely on me. Come, out with it! What is the matter? Is it a breach of promise case, or divorce, or what is it?"
"Look here, old man, before we go any farther," said Browne, with great impressiveness, "I want to ask you not to joke on it. It may seem humorous to other people, but I assure you it's life and death to me."
There was a little silence that might have lasted a minute; then Jimmy took his friend's arm. "I'm sorry," said he; "only give me a decent chance and I'm sure to make a fool of myself. I had no idea it was such a serious matter with you. Now then, what is it? Tell me everything from beginning to end."
"I will," said Browne. "But I ought to tell you first that I am not supposed to say anything about it. The secret, while it is mine in a sense, concerns another person more vitally. If I were the only one in it I shouldn't care a bit; but I have to think of others before myself. You may remember that one night—it seems as if it were years ago, though in reality it is only a few weeks—you and I were walking down Regent Street together. You told me you had seen a picture in a shop window that you wanted to show me."