What have you got in that drawer ?" Conyers locked the drawer abruptly, and jerked out the key.
"What do you want to know for ?" His visitor grinned boyishly.
"Don't be bashful, old chap! I always guessed you kept her there.

We'll drink her health, too, in a minute.

But first of all"-- he was splashing soda-water impetuously out of a syphon as he spoke--"first of all--quite ready, I say?
It's a grand occasion--here's to the best of good fellows, that genius, that inventor of guns, John Conyers! Old chap, your fortune's made.

Here's to it! Hip--hip--hooray!" His shout was like the blare of a bull.

Conyers rose, crossed to the door, and closed it.
Returning, he halted by his visitor's side, and shook him by the shoulder.
"Stop rotting, Palliser!" he said rather shortly.
Young Palliser wheeled with a gigantic laugh, and seized him by the arms.
"You old fool, Jack! Can't you see I'm in earnest?
Drink, man, drink, and I'll tell you all about it.