“Yes. It is my one extravagance,” Drake replied.
As soon as they reached the library, Gaunt went to a cabinet, and from it chose one of the cigars which he kept for himself and his most intimate friends. Drake snipped off the end and carefully applied a match. Then he threw himself back into the chair and took two or three luxurious puffs.
“It is almost worth while being a millionaire,” he remarked meditatively.
“May I send you a box?” Gaunt asked politely.
“My dear sir, I couldn’t think of accepting such a gift. No—no. I must be content with my pipe. But you are very generous, and I thank you.”
Gaunt knew that it would be useless to insist, and he respected Drake the more for his decision. He too lit a cigar and brought his chair near the other one.
“Mr. Drake, I don’t quite know how to begin,” he said doubtfully.
“Take your own time.”
“I am afraid that you will think me a trifle mad when you hear what I have to say. First I want you to answer me a question—and frankly. Will you do so?”
“To the best of my ability,” Drake answered gravely, for he recognized that Gaunt was grimly in earnest.