He was not a tactful person by any means: he made an observation then concerning my tea and buttered toast.
"I really wonder," he said, "how you can drink that stuff," with a nod towards my cup. "It would make me sick; put it away and have a whisky and soda with me?"
I naturally considered this a very rude remark from a perfect stranger.
"I am much obliged," I snapped, "but I prefer tea."
At that moment I put my hand in my pocket for my cigarette case. I thought I would give this man one to stop his tiresome talking; as I pulled it out the key of the safe which the old lady had given me fell out with it. Before I could stoop and pick it up myself the man with the glass eye had got it. He put it up close to his good eye and examined it critically. "What an extraordinary key!" he observed. "Where did you get it?"
Then he saw the letter C which was worked among the elaborate tracery of the handle, and he became greatly agitated.
"Where did you get this from?" he repeated abruptly.
I did not answer; I got up from my seat and took the key out of his hand; he was by no means willing to part with it.
"Excuse me," I said.
Then with the key safe in my pocket and my hand over it, I walked out of the smoking-room, leaving behind me two pieces of buttered toast and perhaps a cup and a half of excellent tea all wasted.