'Oh, rather. Been friends for years and years.'
He drew in his breath sharply, and I could see that Biffy's stock had dropped several points. His eye fell on the floor, which was strewn with things that had tumbled off the upset table.
'Have you had an accident?' he said.
'Nothing serious,' I explained. 'Old Biffy had some sort of fit or seizure just now and knocked over the table.'
'A fit!'
'Or seizure.'
'Is he subject to fits?'
I was about to answer, when Biffy hurried in. He had forgotten to brush his hair, which gave him a wild look, and saw the old boy direct a keen glance at him. It seemed to me that what you might call the preliminary spade-work had been most satisfactorily attended to and that the success of the good old bulb could be in no doubt whatever.
Biffy's man came in with the nose-bags and we sat down to lunch.