Payson, smoking his third cigar, and taking now and then a dash of cognac, began to think better of his old dad.  He really hadn’t paid him quite the proper attention.  He admitted it to Mr. Tutt—­with the first genuine tears in his eyes since he had left Cambridge;—­perhaps, if he had been more to him—.  But Mr. Tutt veered off again—­this time on university education; the invaluable function of the university being, he said, to preserve intact and untarnished in a materialistic age the spiritual ideals inherited from the past.

In this rather commonplace sentiment Payson agreed with him passionately.  He further agreed with equal enthusiasm when his host advanced the doctrine that after all to preserve one’s honor stainless was the only thing that much mattered.  Absolutely! declared Payson, as he allowed Mr. Tutt to press another glass of port upon him.

Payson, in spite of the slight beading of his forehead and the blurr about the gas jets, began to feel very much the man of the world,—­not a “six bottle man” perhaps, but—­and he laughed complacently—­a “two bottle man.”  If he’d lived back in the good old sporting days very likely he could have done better.  But he’s taken care of two full bottles, hadn’t he?  Mr. Tutt replied that he’d taken care of them very well indeed.  And with this opening the old lawyer launched into his favorite topic,—­to wit, that there were only two sorts of men in the world—­gentlemen, and those who were not.  What made a man a gentleman was gallantry and loyalty,—­the readiness to sacrifice everything—­even life—­to an ideal.  The hero was the chap who never counted the cost to himself.  That was why people revered the saints, acclaimed the cavalier, and admired the big-hearted gambler who was ready to stake his fortune on the turn of a card.  There was even, he averred, an element of spirituality in the gambler’s carelessness about money.

This theory greatly interested Payson, who held strongly with it, having always had a secret, sneaking fondness for gamblers.  On the strength of it he mentioned Charles James Fox—­there was a true gentleman and sportsman for you!  No mollycoddle—­but a roaring, six bottle fellow—­with a big brain and a scrupulous sense of honor.  Yes, sir!  Charley Fox was the right sort!  He managed to intimate successfully that Charley and he were very much the same breed of pup.  At this point Mr. Tutt, having carefully committed his guest to an ethical standard as far removed as possible from one based upon self-interest, opened the window a few more inches, sauntered over to the mantel, lit a fresh stogy and spread his long legs in front of the sea-coal fire like an elongated Colossus of Rhodes.  He commenced his dastardly countermining of his partner’s advice by complimenting Payson on being a man whose words, manner and appearance proclaimed him to the world a true sport and a regular fellow.  From which flattering prologue he slid naturally into said