"Yours sincerely,
"Wilfred Tollemache."
I sent a reply by my man to say that I would have much pleasure in visiting him about nine o'clock that evening. I arrived at Mercer's Hotel at the hour named. Tollemache received me in a private sitting-room. Bottles containing wines and liqueurs were on the table. There was a box of cigars and pipes.
"I BADE HIM GOOD-BYE."
"You have not begun that again?" I could not help saying, glancing significantly at the spirits as I spoke.
"No," he said, with a grim sort of smile, "I have no craving at present—if I had, I should indulge. These refreshments are at your service. At present I drink nothing stronger or more harmful than soda-water."
"That is right," I said, heartily. Then I seated myself in a chair and lit a cigar, while Tollemache filled a pipe.
"It is very good of you to give up some of your valuable time to a worthless chap like me," he said.
There was a strange mingling of gratitude and despair in the words which aroused my sympathy.