And the last drop of the best Madeira went the same way and with equal graciousness! Peter, at Jack's knock, opened the door himself.

Isaac Cohen had just come in to show him a new book, and Peter supposed some one from the shop below had sent upstairs for him.
"Oh! it's you, my boy!" Peter cried in his hearty way, his arms around Jack's shoulders as he drew him inside the room.

Then something in the boy's face checked him, bringing to mind the tragedy.

"Yes, I read it all in the papers," he exclaimed in a sympathetic voice.

"Terrible, isn't it! Poor Minott.