Indeed,
as he dipped an amethystine nose into his wine-glass, and gazed
thoughtfully at the glowing end of his cigar, he looked the very type of
the well-to-do lawyer of an older generation.
"You are really an extraordinarily polite fellow, Thorndyke," said Mr.
Brodribb.
"I know," replied Thorndyke. "But why this reference to an admitted
fact?"
"The truth has just dawned on me," said the solicitor. "Here am I,
dropping in on you, uninvited and unannounced, sitting in your own
armchair before your fire, smoking your cigars, drinking your
Burgundy--and deuced good Burgundy, too, let me add--and you have not
dropped a single hint of curiosity as to what has brought me here."
"I take the gifts of the gods, you see, and ask no questions," said
Thorndyke.
"Devilish handsome of you, Thorndyke--unsociable beggar like you, too,"
rejoined Mr. Brodribb, a fan of wrinkles spreading out genially from the
corners of his eyes; "but the fact is I have come, in a sense, on
business--always glad of a pretext to look you up, as you know--but I
want to take your opinion on a rather queer case. It is about young
Calverley.
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