"Because, with the best will in the world, it's quite impossible to give you the benefit of something which doesn't exist. A sealed letter and a corked bottle, you see, are two things which habit has long since made it impossible to resist."
"Not a drop of liquor has touched my lips to-day!" exclaimed Vicot.
"And it's past noon!" retorted Radwalader lightly. "Is this a miracle of which you are informing me, or have you been taking it through a tube?"
He took up the note, and seated himself deliberately in Andrew's chair. Vicot watched him alertly, gnawing his lip.
"Am I to know what it's about?" he demanded presently.
"There's no conceivable reason why you should," was the answer; "but, on the other hand, there seems to be no conceivable reason why you shouldn't. Only pray don't stand upon ceremony, my good Jules. If you know the contents, do be kind enough to say so, and spare me the effort of useless recapitulation."
"I've practically told you already. I haven't touched it."
"Curiously enough," said Radwalader, "I believe you."
He threw the note upon the table, and Vicot, picking it up, scanned it eagerly.