“Is there anything I can do before I go?”
“Do?”
“Well—”—Jno. Peters coughed tactfully—“I see that you are engaged with a client, Mr. Samuel, and I was wondering if any little point of law had arisen with which you did not feel yourself quite capable of coping, in which case I might perhaps be of assistance.”
“Oh, that lady,” said Sam. “That was Miss Milliken’s sister.”
“Indeed? I didn’t know Miss Milliken had a sister.”
“No?” said Sam.
“She is not very like her in appearance.”
“No. This one is the beauty of the family, I believe. A very bright, intelligent girl. I was telling her about your revolver just before you came in, and she was most interested. It’s a pity you haven’t got it with you now, to show to her.”
“Oh, but I have it! I have, Mr. Samuel!” said Peters, opening a small handbag and taking out a hymn-book, half a pound of mixed chocolates, a tongue sandwich, and the pistol, in the order named. “I was on my way to the Rupert Street range for a little practice. I should be glad to show it to her.”
“Well, wait here a minute or two,” said Sam. “I’ll have finished talking business in a moment.”