the Corinthian Club, and it was vitally necessary—vitally necessary for myself, I mean—that I should secure the privilege of a few minutes' conversation with you."
"Have you been waiting all this time outside the Corinthian Club?"
"Since half-past nine to-night, my lord."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Why did you not send in your card? I could have seen you in the Strangers' Room."
"Would you have done so, my lord?"
Stranleigh did not reply to the inquiry. He was a truthful man, even in small matters, and although invariably courteous, he refused to tell a lie even when politeness called for it, so instead of answering the question, he propounded another.
"May I ask who you are, sir?"
"My name is Bronson Marlow, and until my health gave way I was connected with University College in London. I'm a B.A. of Oxford, and a D.Sc. of Cambridge. I am a member of the Scientific Society's Club, and would invite you there, only it closes rather earlier than the sporting Corinthian."
"Yes, we burn the midnight electricity a bit at the Corinthian, and I fear not to such good purpose as you do at the Scientific Society. You seem to think I would not have admitted you to the Club; may I remove that impression by inviting you into my own house?"
