“Medcroft!  Bless your heart!  I was just on the point of looking you up at the Ritz.  It’s good to see you,” Brock cried as they clasped hands.

“Of all the men and of all the times, Brock, you are the most opportune,” exclaimed the other.  “I saw that you were here and bolted my breakfast to catch you.  These beastly telephones never work.  Oh, I say, old man, have you finished yours?”

“Quite—­but luckily I didn’t have to bolt it.  You’re off for Vienna, I see.  Sit down, Rox.  Won’t you have another egg and a cup of coffee?  Do!”

“Thanks and no to everything you suggest.  Wot you doing for the next half-hour or so?  I’m in a deuce of a dilemma and you’ve got to help me out of it.”  The Englishman looked at his watch and fumbled it nervously as he replaced it in his upper coat pocket.  “That’s a good fellow, Brock.  You will be the ever present help in time of trouble, won’t you?”

“My letter of credit is at your disposal, old man,” said Brock promptly.  He meant it.  It readily may be seen from this that their friendship is no small item to be considered in the development of this tale.

“My dear fellow, that’s the very thing I’m eager to thrust upon you—­my letter of credit,” exclaimed the other.

“What’s that?” demanded Brock.

“I say, Brock, can’t we go up to your rooms?  Dead secret, you know.  Really, old chap, I mean it.  No one must get a breath of it.  That’s why I’m whispering.  I’m not a lunatic, so don’t stare like that.  I’d do as much for you if the conditions were reversed.”

“I dare say you would, Rox, but what the devil is it you want me to do?”

“Do I appear to be agitated?”

“Well, I should say so.”

“Well, I am.  You know how I loathe asking a favour of anyone.  Besides, it’s rather an extraordinary one I’m going to ask of you.  Came to me in a flash this morning when I saw your name in the paper.  Sort of inspiration, ’pon my word.  I think Edith sees it the same as I, although I haven’t had time to go into it thoroughly with her.  She’s ripping, you know; pluck to the very core.”

Brock’s face expressed bewilderment and perplexity.

“Won’t you have another drink, old man?” he asked gently.

“Another?  Hang it all, I haven’t had one in a week.  Come along.  I must talk it all over with you before I introduce you to her.  You must be prepared.”

“Introduce me to whom?” demanded Brock, pricking up his ears.  He was following Medcroft to the elevator.

“To my wife—­Edith,” said Medcroft, annoyed by the other’s obtuseness.