"But he hass not yet arrifed, eh? Dicky, eh? Oh, this poor little one he will miss his master. So the poor—the poor—Sweet! Sweet!"
Mr. Torrington frowned and placing a piece of sugar from the saucer of his coffee cup in a spoon held it out at arm's length.
"Present this sugar to your feathered friend with my compliments," said he. "And ask him to excuse you for a moment."
Hugo Van Diest returned to the table wreathed in smiles.
"So you wish to talk. Proceed."
"If Barraclough has the concession what have you to gain?" The banter had died out of the old man's voice.
"There wass millions of concessions never taken up. S'pose thiss one is lost, eh? Who will be the wiser?"
"I see. Dog in the Manger?"
"We lock the stable door before the horse arrife that is all."
"And how far have you decided to go—all the way?"