"It's fifteen minutes till dinner," he said, "so don't hurry."
"Please wait," said Beauling. "I want to tell you something."
Dunbar waited, with a quizzical smile.
Beauling slipped into a white waistcoat, and, with it still unbuttoned, turned to Dunbar and faced him, standing very erect.
"It's something I should have told you long ago, Mr. Dunbar," he said. "I've been sailing under false colors, I'm ashamed to say, but I can't do it any longer."
His voice shook a little. This was not the beginning which Dunbar had expected. He tossed his cigarette into the fireplace, and lighted a fresh one.
"Somehow," said Beauling, "you always seemed to take it for granted that I was all right; you never asked me where I came from, who I was, or anything. And I couldn't bear to tell you."
"Do you think it necessary to tell me now?" asked Dunbar, kindly.
"I do," said Beauling. "I should
