He shut the window and moved away with a heavy Heart.  He had not had the pleasure of an extended acquaintanceship with Peter, but he had seen enough of him to realise his sterling qualities.  Somewhere beneath Peter’s three hundred ribs there had lain a heart of gold, and Archie mourned for his loss.

Archie had a dinner and theatre engagement that night, and it was late when he returned to the hotel.  He found his father-in-law prowling restlessly about the lobby.  There seemed to be something on Mr. Brewster’s mind.  He came up to Archie with a brooding frown on his square face.

“Who’s this man Seacliff?” he demanded, without preamble.  “I hear he’s a friend of yours.”

“Oh, you’ve met him, what?” said Archie.  “Had a nice little chat together, yes?  Talked of this and that, no!”

“We have not said a word to each other.”

“Really?  Oh, well, dear old Squiffy is one of those strong, silent fellers you know.  You mustn’t mind if he’s a bit dumb.  He never says much, but it’s whispered round the clubs that he thinks a lot.  It was rumoured in the spring of nineteen-thirteen that Squiffy was on the point of making a bright remark, but it never came to anything.”

Mr. Brewster struggled with his feelings.

“Who is he?  You seem to know him.”

“Oh yes.  Great pal of mine, Squiffy.  We went through Eton, Oxford, and the Bankruptcy Court together.  And here’s a rummy coincidence.  When they examined me, I had no assets.  And, when they examined Squiffy, he had no assets!  Rather extraordinary, what?”

Mr. Brewster seemed to be in no mood for discussing coincidences.

“I might have known he was a friend of yours!” he said, bitterly.  “Well, if you want to see him, you’ll have to do it outside my hotel.”

“Why, I thought he was stopping here.”

“He is—­to-night.  To-morrow he can look for some other hotel to break up.”

“Great Scot!  Has dear old Squiffy been breaking the place up?”

Mr. Brewster snorted.

“I am informed that this precious friend of yours entered my grill-room at eight o’clock.  He must have been completely intoxicated, though the head waiter tells me he noticed nothing at the time.”

Archie nodded approvingly.

“Dear old Squiffy was always like that.  It’s a gift.  However woozled he might be, it was impossible to detect it with the naked eye.  I’ve seen the dear old chap many a time whiffled to the eyebrows, and looking as sober as a bishop.  Soberer!  When did it begin to dawn on the lads in the grill-room that the old egg had been pushing the boat out?”

“The head waiter,” said Mr. Brewster, with cold fury, “tells me that he got a hint of the man’s condition when he suddenly got up from his table and went the round of the room, pulling off all the table-cloths, and breaking everything that was on them.  He then threw a number of rolls at the diners, and left.  He seems to have gone straight to bed.”