"I remember the incident perfectly," said Jimmy, but this time without a smile. "It was a very foggy night, and you first kept me waiting half an hour outside the shop, and then acted like a lunatic afterwards."
"Well," said Browne, without replying to his friend's comments upon his behaviour on that occasion, "you may remember that the night following you dined with me at Lallemand's, and met two ladies."
"Madame Bernstein and Miss Petrovitch," said Jimmy. "I remember. What next?"
Browne paused and looked a trifle sheepish before he replied, "Well, look here, old man; that girl, Miss Petrovitch, is going to be my wife." He looked nervously at Jimmy as if he expected an explosion.
"I could have told you that long ago," said Jimmy, with imperturbable gravity. "And, by Jove! I'll go further and say that I don't think you could do better. As far as I could tell, she seemed an awfully nice girl, and I should think she would make you just the sort of wife you want."
"Thank you," said Browne, more pleased with Jimmy than he had ever been before.
"But that only brings me to the beginning of what I have to say," he continued. "Now I want you, before we go any further, to give me your word as a friend that, whatever I may say to you, you will not reveal to any one else. You cannot think how important it is, both to her and to me."
"I will give you that promise willingly," said Jimmy. "You can tell me whatever you like, without any fear that I shall divulge it."
"Your promise is all I want," said Browne. Then, speaking very slowly, and as earnestly as he knew how, he continued: "The truth of the matter is that that girl is by birth a Russian. Her father had the misfortune to get into trouble over an attempt upon the Czar's life."
"A Nihilist, I suppose?" said Jimmy.