“You’re getting too old to put things off, John. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. I found him once in my rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door. Of course, at home there would have been questions.
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