Jones was an abstemious man, as a rule, but he had a highly strung nervous system and it had been worked up. The unaccustomed whiskey and soda had taken him in its charge, comforting him and conducting his steps, and now the bar keeper, a cheery person, combined with the champagne cocktail, the cheeriest of drinks, so raised his spirits and warmed his optimism, that, having finished his glass he pushed it across the counter and said, “Give me another.”
At this moment a gentleman who had just entered the bar came up to the counter, placed half a crown upon it and was served by the assistant bar keeper with a glass of sherry.
Jones, turning, found himself face to face with the stranger whom he had seen in the lounge, the stranger whose face he knew but whose name he could not remember in the least.
Jones was a direct person, used to travel and the forming of chance acquaintanceships. He did not hang back.
“’Scuse me,” said he. “I saw you in the lounge and I’m sure I’ve met you somewhere or another, but I can’t place you.”
CHAPTER II
THE STRANGER
The stranger, taking his change from the assistant bar tender, laughed.