"Quite right, if you do, Peacock," I agreed. "And you can lay it to that honest conscience of which you are rightly proud that you have served the family long and faithfully, and that no one will question your right to an annuity."
"Oh, that will be all right, sir," said the old retainer; "even if Mr. Theodore does act contrary to the will of God, nobody can deny that he is a perfect gentleman."
"Is not that rather a confirmation of the ancient, theory that the Devil was the first perfect gentleman?"
"I have not thought of that before, sir, but now you mention it, it is certainly worth thinking about."
Having lent sanction to this profound truth, the old fellow went out of the room. But I recalled him from the threshold.
"By the way, Peacock, Mr. Theodore told me to ask for the Sporting Times, a cigar and a whisky-and-soda."
"Very good, sir." The old fellow withdrew.
"And thank God for them!" I muttered devoutly to the bare walls.