With two bottles, accordingly, he returned.  Glasses were produced, and Morris filled them with hospitable grace.

‘I drink to you, cousin!’ he cried gaily.  ’Don’t spare the wine-cup in my house.’

Michael drank his glass deliberately, standing at the table; filled it again, and returned to his chair, carrying the bottle along with him.

‘The spoils of war!’ he said apologetically.  ’The weakest goes to the wall.  Science, Morris, science.’  Morris could think of no reply, and for an appreciable interval silence reigned.  But two glasses of the still champagne produced a rapid change in Michael.

‘There’s a want of vivacity about you, Morris,’ he observed.  ’You may be deep; but I’ll be hanged if you’re vivacious!’

‘What makes you think me deep?’ asked Morris with an air of pleased simplicity.

‘Because you won’t compromise,’ said the lawyer.  ’You’re deep dog, Morris, very deep dog, not t’ compromise—­remarkable deep dog.  And a very good glass of wine; it’s the only respectable feature in the Finsbury family, this wine; rarer thing than a title—­much rarer.  Now a man with glass wine like this in cellar, I wonder why won’t compromise?’

‘Well, you wouldn’t compromise before, you know,’ said the smiling Morris.  ‘Turn about is fair play.’

‘I wonder why I wouldn’ compromise?  I wonder why you wouldn’?’ enquired Michael.  ‘I wonder why we each think the other wouldn’?  ’S quite a remarrable—­remarkable problem,’ he added, triumphing over oral obstacles, not without obvious pride.  ’Wonder what we each think—­don’t you?’

‘What do you suppose to have been my reason?’ asked Morris adroitly.

Michael looked at him and winked.  ‘That’s cool,’ said he.  ’Next thing, you’ll ask me to help you out of the muddle.  I know I’m emissary of Providence, but not that kind!  You get out of it yourself, like Aesop and the other fellow.  Must be dreadful muddle for young orphan o’ forty; leather business and all!’

‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean,’ said Morris.

‘Not sure I know myself,’ said Michael.  ’This is exc’lent vintage, sir—­exc’lent vintage.  Nothing against the tipple.  Only thing:  here’s a valuable uncle disappeared.  Now, what I want to know:  where’s valuable uncle?’

‘I have told you:  he is at Browndean,’ answered Morris, furtively wiping his brow, for these repeated hints began to tell upon him cruelly.

‘Very easy say Brown—­Browndee—­no’ so easy after all!’ cried Michael.  ‘Easy say; anything’s easy say, when you can say it.  What I don’ like’s total disappearance of an uncle.  Not businesslike.’  And he wagged his head.

‘It is all perfectly simple,’ returned Morris, with laborious calm.  ’There is no mystery.  He stays at Browndean, where he got a shake in the accident.’

‘Ah!’ said Michael, ‘got devil of a shake!’

‘Why do you say that?’ cried Morris sharply.