"In less than five minutes, Andrew, you'll be acknowledging that I've done you a very considerable service in bringing Mr. Lamb to this house, and you'll be begging my pardon for the remarks which you have just made."
Mr. Brown, obedient to his partner's request, had rung the bell. A servant appeared. Him Dr. Twelves addressed before Mr. McTavish had a chance of speaking.
"You'll have the goodness to bring a decanter of whisky, and the other necessaries, at once."
When the man looked at his master for an endorsement of this order the doctor explained.
"Andrew, Mr. Lamb has a communication to make which I think you will find of interest; he proposes to make it while enjoying a glass of prime whisky."
"I cannot imagine what Mr. Lamb has to say which can be of interest to me, but, since you wish it--John, bring the whisky."
A decanter being placed upon a table, the doctor prepared a potent mixture which he handed to Mr. Lamb.
"I think, Mr. Lamb, I understood you to say that Mrs. Lamb was married to you before she met Cuthbert Grahame?"
"Of course she was--ever so long. She was never his wife; that was only her bluff. This is something like whisky. Gentlemen, your very good health, and the lady's--never overlook a lady."
"You perceive, Andrew, that Mrs. Lamb was already Mrs. Lamb when she encountered your late client, Mr. Cuthbert Grahame, and, therefore, any document in which she is described as his wife is, I believe, on the face of it, null and void."