“I don’t know why. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. "Hoity-toity! You owe me sixteen thousand dollars. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. Then he took me out to Monteaux, on a motor. " "I have often conjured up some frightful vision of the dead," murmured the knight, "but I never dreamed of an interview with the living. After all, it was really rather funny. Here's his health likewise.
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