“Your foible's notorious, Charles. But I don't see why you keep my cigars all to yourself,” said Corey.
“My dear fellow,” said Bellingham, making a hospitable offer of the cigar-box from the mantel, “you said they'd cut you off.”
“Ah, so they have. I forgot. Well, what's your plan?”
“My plan,” said Bellingham, “is to have him to breakfast with me, and interview him generally, and get him to read me a few passages, without rousing his suspicions. Heigh?”
“I don't know that I believe much in your plan,” said Corey. “I should like to hear what my spiritual adviser has to say.”
“I shouldn't know what to advise, exactly,” said Sewell. “But I won't reject any plan that gives my client a chance.”
“Isn't client rather euphuistic?” asked Corey.
“It is, rather. But I've got into the habit of handling Barker very delicately, even in thought. I'm not sure he'll come,” added Sewell, turning to Bellingham.
“Oh yes, he will,” said Bellingham. “Tell him it's business. There won't be anybody there. Will nine be too late for him?”
“I imagine he's more accustomed to half-past five at home, and seven here.”