Tarlyon grasped the outstretched hand, and wrung it.
“Congratulations,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” said Mr. Fall.
“But is the man mad?” he asked. “What on earth for?”
“For your advice to the lady, Lord Tarlyon,” said Mr. Fall gently.
Tarlyon jumped in his chair, and he stared at Cyrus Fall.
“You don’t mean to tell me that she told you!” he gasped.
“Oh, no!” Mr. Fall assured him. “Oh, no! She has never mentioned your name, and I haven’t the faintest idea of what you said to her. But I knew that you would say something, Lord Tarlyon—as a man of honour. That is why I told you of my dilemma that night—after which, as a man of honour, you could do but one thing, since my intentions were serious and yours were not. A cocktail?”