“He may be the complete amorist,” smiled Markham.
“Some like Abra, what?——
‘Abra was ready ere I call’d her name;
And, though I call’d another, Abra came.’
Maybe—yes. He might qualify as a modern Cayley Drummle.”
“At any rate, he gave us, in Doctor Lindquist, a possible source of information.”
“Quite so,” agreed Vance. “And that’s about the only point of his whole passionate unfoldment that I particularly put any stock in, because it was the only point he indicated with any decent reticence. . . . My advice is that you interview this Æsculapius of the fair sex without further delay.”
“I’m dog-tired,” objected Markham. “Let it wait till to-morrow.”
Vance glanced at the great clock over the stone mantel.
“It’s latish, I’ll admit, but why not, as Pittacus advised, seize time by the forelock?
‘Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find:
Occasion once past by, is bald behind.’