The Rising Barrister coughed deprecatingly, and lit a cigarette.
VIII — "Good Hunting, Old Chap"
I
The Well-known Soldier leaned back in his chair, and thoughtfully held his glass up to the light.
"Personally," he remarked at length, "I would sooner be sent to prison for five years for a thing I had done than be let out after two and a half for a thing I hadn't."
"An interesting point," conceded the Celebrated Actor. "But to the casual observer, unversed in psychology, it might appear to be merely a choice between five years of hell and two and a half."
The Celebrated Actor, it may be stated, had recently been dipping into various "ologies" in the course of studying his newest and greatest part. Luckily for the sake of the public, the leaves of most of the treatises were still uncut, which ensured that his rendering of the strong, silent Napoleon of finance would not differ appreciably from his own celebrated personality. Incidentally he had never intended that it should, but the author of the play was a serious young man, and the Actor was nothing if not tactful.
"I am inclined to disagree, General," said the Eminent Divine. "Surely the moral support of a clear conscience——"
"Quite," murmured the Actor. "Quite."
"Would cut no ice, Bishop," declared the Soldier. "Two and a half years is too long a time for such a comparatively frail support as a clear conscience. Especially a youngster's."