The Club of Queer Trades
"Don't you?" said Grant. "I'll bet you'll see something extraordinary in what we're doing instead."
I looked at him blankly.
"Doing instead?" I asked. "What are we doing instead?"
"Why," said he, "we are waiting for one or two hours outside this house on a winter evening. You must forgive me; it is all my vanity. It is only to show you that I am right. Can you, with the assistance of this cigar, wait until both Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh and the mystic Wimpole have left this house?"
"Certainly," I said. "But I do not know which is likely to leave first. Have you any notion?"
"No," he said. "Sir Walter may leave first in a glow of rage. Or again, Mr. Wimpole may leave first, feeling that his last epigram is a thing to be flung behind him like a firework. And Sir Walter may remain some time to analyze Mr. Wimpole's character. But they will both have to leave within reasonable time, for they will both
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