“How long has that half-bottle of wine been opened?”
“If I remember accurately, sir, this is the fifteenth day.”
“It’s not fit to drink, Quong Ho. To-morrow you will throw it away and open another half-bottle.”
“It shall be done as you wish, sir,” said Quong Ho. “Except, sir, that I do not propose to waste the wine, for though it is too stale for drinking purposes, it is an invaluable adjunctive in cookery for soups and sauces.”
Baltazar drank a draught of water and, wiping his lips, looked over his shoulder at the Chinaman.
“Adjunctive? That’s a new word. Where did you get hold of it?”
“Possibly from you, sir, who have been my master in the English language for the last ten years.”
“You didn’t get it from me. It’s a beast of a word.”
“Then possibly, sir, I have met it in my independent reading. Perhaps in The Rambler of your celebrated philosopher, Johnson, which I have been perusing lately with great interest.”
Baltazar leaned back in his chair.