It was a fine sherry wine.
"How old would you say that wine was ?" queried the Scotchman with exaggerated carelessness.
The carelessness did not deceive Harrigan.

His mind went blanker still, for he knew little about good wines.
"Well ?" asked the engineer.
"H-m!" muttered Harrigan, and racked his brain to remember the ages at which a good vintage becomes a rare old wine.

"About thirty-five years." "By the Lord!" cried Campbell.

"It never fails--a strong man knows his liquor like a book! You're almost right.

Add three years and you have it! Thirty-eight years in sunshine and shadow!" He leaned back and gazed dreamily up to the ceiling.
"Think of it," he went on in a reverent murmur.