As if feeling his power, the elder man relaxed his hold and pointed to the spot where his victim had disappeared.
"He was a good man," he said, more to himself than to Andrew, "and the world has lost a great philanthropist; but he is better as he is." Then he lifted a paving-stone, and peered long and earnestly into the waters.
The short stout man, however, did not rise again.
[1] Some time afterwards Lord Rosebery convulsed an audience by a story about a friend of his who complained that you get "no forrarder" on claret.

Andrew was that friend.
[2] He had fine ideas, but no money to work them out.

One was to start a serious "Spectator," on the lines of the present one, but not so flippant and frivolous..