With a sweep of his hand Sidwell brought the two glasses together with a click.  “I think so.  Kind enough to deserve commemoration by a taste of the elixir of life, don’t you agree?” and the liquor flowed beneath a hand steady in the first stages of intoxication.

Hough pushed back his chair.  “No,” he protested.  “I’ve had enough.”

“Enough!” The other laughed unmusically.  “Enough!  You haven’t begun yet.  Drink, and forget your loneliness, you benedict disconsolate!”

But again the big man shook his head.  “No,” he repeated.  “I’ve had enough, and so have you.  We’ll be drunk, both of us, if we keep up this clip much longer.”

The smile left the host’s face.  “Drunk!” he echoed.  “Since when, pray, has that exalted state of the consciousness begun to inspire terror in you?  Drunk!  Winston Hough, you’re the last man I ever thought would fail to prove game on an occasion like this!  We’re no nearer being babes than we were the last time we got together, unless the termination of life approximates the beginning.  Drink!”

But still, this time in silence, Hough shook his head.  From a partially open door leading into the adjoining room the negro’s eyes peered out.

Sidwell shifted in his seat with exaggerated deliberation and leaned forward.  His dark mobile face worked passionately, compellingly.  “Winston Hough,” he challenged, “do you wish to remain my friend?”

“I certainly do.”

“Then you know what to do.”

Deep silence fell upon the room.  Not only the eyes but the whole of Alec’s face appeared through the doorway.  Hough could no more have resisted longer than he could have leaped from the open window.  They drank together.

“Now,” said Sidwell, “just to show that you mean it, we’ll have another.”

And soon the enemy that puerile man puts into his mouth to steal his brains was enthroned.

Sidwell sank into his chair, and lighting his cigar sent a great cloud of smoke curling up over his head.  Hand and tongue were steady, unnaturally so, but the mood of irresponsible confidence was upon him.

“Since you’ve decided to remain my friend,” he said, “I’m going to tell you something confidential, very confidential.  You won’t give it away?”

“Never!” Hough shook his head.

“On your honor?”

The big man crossed his hands over his heart in the manner of small boys.

Sidwell was satisfied.  “All right, then.  This is the last time you and I will ever get—­this way together.”

Hough looked as solemn as though at a funeral.  “Why so?” he protested.  “Are you angry with me yet?”

“No, it’s not that.  I’ve forgiven you.”

“What is it, then?” Hough felt that he must know the reason of his lost position, and if in his power remove it.

“I’m going to quit drinking after to-night, for one thing,” explained Sidwell.  “It isn’t adequate.  But even if I didn’t, I don’t expect we’ll ever be together again after a few days, after you go away.”