That night I met Williams at the Café Jaune by previous and crafty agreement; and it certainly was nice to be together after all these years in the same old seats in the same café, and discuss the days that we never could live again—and wouldn't want to if we could—alas!
The talk fell on Ellis and Jones, and immediately I perceived that Williams had skillfully steered the conversation toward those two young men—and I knew devilish well he had a story to tell me about them.
So I cut short his side-stepping and circling, and told him to be about it as I wanted to devote one or two hours that night to a matter which I had recently neglected—Sleep.
"That Jones," he said, "was a funny fellow. He and Ellis didn't meet over here; Ellis was before his time. But they became excellent friends under rather unusual circumstances.
"Ellis, you know, was always getting some trout fishing when he was over here. He was a good deal of a general sportsman. As for Jones—well, you remember that he had no use for anything more strenuous than a motor tour."
"I remember," I said.
