“I beg pardon, sir,” he blurted out, “I didn’t know you was in.”

“Evidently.  A more expert scoundrel would have stolen them under my very nose.  You are a bungler.”

“I really wasn’t goin’ to take any, sir—­just put them away, that is all.”

“In that packet,” said Brett, “there are eighty-seven cigarettes.  I count them, because each one is an epoch.  I don’t count the cigars in the sideboard.”

“I prefer cigars,” grinned the waiter.

“So I see.  You have two of the landlord’s best ‘sixpences’ in the left pocket of your waistcoat at this moment.”

“Well, if you ain’t a fair scorcher,” the man gasped.

“What, you rascal, would you call me names?”

Brett writhed convulsively, and the waiter backed towards the door.

“No, sir, I was callin’ no names.  We don’t get too many perks—­we waiters don’t, sir.  I was out of bed until one o’clock and up again at six.  That’s wot I call hard work, sir.”

“It is outrageous.  Take five cigars.”

“Thank you kindly, sir.”

“What kept you up till one o’clock?”

“Gossip, sir—­just silly gossip.  All about Mrs. Capella, an’ Beechcroft, an’ I don’t know wot”

“Indeed, and who was so interested in these topics as to spoil your beauty sleep?”

“The new gentleman, who is so like Mr. David.”

“How very interesting,” said the barrister, who certainly did not expect this revelation.

“It seemed to be interesting to ’im, sir.  You see, the ’ouse is pretty full, and when you brought ’im ‘ere last night, sir, the bookkeeper gev’ ’im the room next to mine.  Last thing, I fetched the gentleman a Scotch an’ soda an’ a cigar.  ’E said ’e couldn’t sleep, and ‘e was lookin’ at a fotygraf.  I caught a squint at it, an’ I sez, ’Beg parding, sir, but ain’t that Mrs. Capella—­Miss Margaret as used to be?’ That started ’im.”

“You surprise me.”

“And the gentleman surprised me,” confided the waiter, whose greatest conversational effects were produced by quickly adapting remarks made to him.  “P’r’aps you are not aware, sir, that the lady’s Eye-talian ‘usbin’ ain’t no good?”

“I have heard something of the sort.”

“Then you’ve heard something right, sir.  They do say as ’ow ’e beats her.”

“The scoundrel!”

“Scoundrel!  You should ’ave seen No. 18 last night when I tole ’im that. 
My conscience!  ’E went on awful, ’e did.  ’E seemed to be mad about Mrs.
Capella.”

“He is her cousin.”

“Cousin!  That won’t wash, sir, beggin’ your pardon.  You an’ me knows better than that”

“I tell you again he is her cousin.”

The waiter absent-mindedly dusted the back of a chair.

“Well, sir, it isn’t for the likes of me to be contradictious, but I’ve got two sisters an’ ‘arf-a-dozen cousins, an’ I don’t go kissin’ their pictures an’ swearin’ to ’ave it out with their ’usbin’s.”