The Major looked up. “Hello, you old cormorant,” said he. “How do you do these days?”
The old cormorant replied that he did very well. He was a pudgy little man, with a pursed-up, wrinkled face. “My friend Mr. Montague—Mr. Symmes,” said the Major.
“I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Montague,” said Mr. Symmes, peering over his spectacles.
“And what are you doing with yourself these days?” asked the Major.
The other smiled genially. “Nothing much,” said he. “Seducing my friends’ wives, as usual.”
“And who’s the latest?”
“Read the newspapers, and you’ll find out,” laughed Symmes. “I’m told I’m being shadowed.”
He passed on down the room, chuckling to himself; and the Major said, “That’s Maltby Symmes. Have you heard of him?”
“No,” said Montague.
“He gets into the papers a good deal. He was up in supplementary proceedings the other day—couldn’t pay his liquor bill.”