"Is this Mr. Hotchkiss?" he inquired.
"That is my name," replied Hotchkiss in his smoothest tone.
"Are you going out to Butts's to-night?"
"Now, that is a queer question," remarked Hotchkiss, after a pause—"a very queer question. What is your name?"
"Tolliver—Gabriel Tolliver."
"Gabriel Tolliver—h'm—yes. Well, Mr. Tolliver, why are you so desirous of knowing whether I go to Butts's to-night?"
"Honestly," replied Gabriel, a little nettled at the man's airs, "I don't want to know at all. I simply wanted to advise you not to go there to-night."
"Oh, you wanted to advise me not to go. Now, then, let's go a little further into the matter. Why do you want to advise me?" Hotchkiss was a man who was not only ripe for a discussion at all times, and upon any subject, but made it a point to emphasise all the most trifling details. "Have you any special interest in my welfare?"
"I think not," replied Gabriel, bluntly. "I simply wanted to drop you a hint. You can take it or not, just as you choose." With that, he turned on his heel, and went home to supper, little dreaming that his kindness of heart, and his sincere efforts to do a stranger a favour would involve him in a tangled web of circumstances, from which he would find it almost impossible to escape.
Gabriel heard Hotchkiss laugh, but he did not hear the remark that followed.