"It was but natural," said a man with a thick beard at my right hand. "And now, most honoured sir, how goes the cause in England?"
"Remarkably well," I answered.
"Has the great commissioner condescended to send a missive to the Solteff branch?" asked Petrokine.
"Nothing in writing," I replied.
"But he has spoken of it?"
"Yes: he said he had watched it with feelings of the liveliest satisfaction," I returned.
"'Tis well! 'tis well!" ran round the table. I felt giddy and sick from the critical nature of my position. Any moment a question might be asked which would show me in my true colours. I rose and helped myself from a decanter of brandy which stood on a side table. The potent liquor flew to my excited brain, and as I sat down I felt reckless enough to be half amused at my position, and inclined to play with my tormentors. I still, however, had all my wits about me.
"You have been to Birmingham?" asked the man with the beard.
"Many times," said I.
