Archie was puzzled.  Something had plainly happened to Reggie.  But what?  It was idle to suppose that somebody had left him money, for he had been left practically all the money there was a matter of ten years before.

“Hallo, old bean,” he said, as the new-comer, radiating good will and bonhomie, arrived at the table and hung over it like a noon-day sun.  “We’ve finished.  But rally round and we’ll watch you eat.  Dashed interesting, watching old Reggie eat.  Why go to the Zoo?”

Reggie shook his head.

“Sorry, old man.  Can’t.  Just on my way to the Ritz.  Stepped in because I thought you might be here.  I wanted you to be the first to hear the news.”

“News?”

“I’m the happiest man alive!”

“You look it, darn you!” growled Bill, on whose mood of grey gloom this human sunbeam was jarring heavily.

“I’m engaged to be married!”

“Congratulations, old egg!” Archie shook his hand cordially.  “Dash it, don’t you know, as an old married man I like to see you young fellows settling down.”

“I don’t know how to thank you enough, Archie, old man,” said Reggie, fervently.

“Thank me?”

“It was through you that I met her.  Don’t you remember the girl you sent to me?  You wanted me to get her a small part—­”

He stopped, puzzled.  Archie had uttered a sound that was half gasp and half gurgle, but it was swallowed up in the extraordinary noise from the other side of the table.  Bill Brewster was leaning forward with bulging eyes and soaring eyebrows.

“Are you engaged to Mabel Winchester?”

“Why, by George!” said Reggie.  “Do you know her?”

Archie recovered himself.

“Slightly,” he said.  “Slightly.  Old Bill knows her slightly, as it were.  Not very well, don’t you know, but—­how shall I put it?”

“Slightly,” suggested Bill.

“Just the word.  Slightly.”

“Splendid!” said Reggie van Tuyl.  “Why don’t you come along to the Ritz and meet her now?”

Bill stammered.  Archie came to the rescue again.

“Bill can’t come now.  He’s got a date.”

“A date?” said Bill.

“A date,” said Archie.  “An appointment, don’t you know.  A—­a—­in fact, a date.”

“But—­er—­wish her happiness from me,” said Bill, cordially.

“Thanks very much, old man,” said Reggie.

“And say I’m delighted, will you?”

“Certainly.”

“You won’t forget the word, will you?  Delighted.”

“Delighted.”

“That’s right.  Delighted.”

Reggie looked at his watch.

“Halloa!  I must rush!”

Bill and Archie watched him as he bounded out of the restaurant.

“Poor old Reggie!” said Bill, with a fleeting compunction.

“Not necessarily,” said Archie.  “What I mean to say is, tastes differ, don’t you know.  One man’s peach is another man’s poison, and vice versa.”