‘It takes ten or fifteen years,’ Griggs answered, ’and then you won’t be elected unless every one likes you.  But you may be put down as a visitor there just as at any other club.  This fellow Feist, for instance—­we had trouble with him last night—­or rather this morning, for it was two o’clock.  He has been dropping in often of late, towards midnight.  At first he was more or less amusing with his stories, for he has a wonderful memory.  You know the sort of funny man who rattles on as if he were wound up for the evening, and afterwards you cannot remember a word he has said.  It’s all very well for a while, but you soon get sick of it.  Besides, this particular specimen drinks like a whale.’

‘He looks as if he did.’

’Last night he had been talking a good deal, and most of the men who had been there had gone off.  You know there’s only one room at the Mutton Chop, with a long table, and if a man takes the floor there’s no escape.  I had come in about one o’clock to get something to eat, and Feist poured out a steady stream of stories as usual, though only one or two listened to him.  Suddenly his eyes looked queer, and he stammered, and rolled off his chair, and lay in a heap, either dead drunk or in a fit, I don’t know which.’

‘And I suppose you carried him downstairs,’ said Logotheti, for Griggs was known to be stronger than other men, though no longer young.

‘I did,’ Griggs answered.  ’That’s usually my share of the proceedings.  The last person I carried—­let me see—­I think it must have been that poor girl who died at the Opera in New York.  We had found Feist’s address in the visitors’ book, and we sent him home in a hansom.  I wonder whether he got there!’

‘I should think the member who put him down would be rather annoyed,’ observed Logotheti.

’Yes.  It’s the first time anything of that sort ever happened at the Mutton Chop, and I fancy it will be the last.  I don’t think we shall see Mr. Feist again.’

‘I took a particular dislike to his face,’ Logotheti said.  ’I remember thinking of him when I went home that night, and wondering who he was and what he was about.’

‘At first I took him for a detective,’ said Griggs.  ’But detectives don’t drink.’

‘What made you think he might be one?’

’He has a very clever way of leading the conversation to a point and then asking an unexpected question.’

‘Perhaps he is an amateur,’ suggested Logotheti.  ’He may be a spy.  Is Feist an American name?’

’You will find all sorts of names in America.  They prove nothing in the way of nationality, unless they are English, Dutch, or French, and even then they don’t prove much.  I’m an American myself, and I feel sure that Feist either is one or has spent many years in the country, in which case he is probably naturalised.  As for his being a spy, I don’t think I ever came across one in England.’

’They come here to rest in time of peace, or to escape hanging in other countries in time of war,’ said the Greek.  ’His being at the Turkish Embassy, of all places in the world, is rather in favour of the idea.  Do you happen to remember the name of his hotel?’