He came across to Foster,
holding the suspected placard in his hand.
"Smoothed him down this time, sir?" asked Foster cheerily.
"Yes," answered Quisante, passing his hand over his smooth hair. "I
think, Mr. Foster, we won't have any more of this Number 77. Make a note
of that, will you?"
"No more of 77," Foster noted on a piece of paper.
"It's not one of the most effective," said Quisante thoughtfully.
"Sails a little near the wind, don't it?" asked Foster with a wink.
"Brief summaries of intricate subjects are almost inevitably open to
misunderstanding," observed Quisante.
"Just so, just so," Foster hurried to say, his eyes grown quite grave
again. May remembered Mr. Constantine Blair's plagiarism of her husband's
style; had he been there, he must have appropriated this last example
also. "I shall end by becoming very fond of Japhet Williams," she said as
she got into the carriage. Quisante glanced at her and did not ask her
why.
Meanwhile, however, the other side had got hold of No. 77, and Smiley,
the agent, a very clever fellow, wired up to the Temple for young Terence
McPhair, who had an acquaintance with the subject.
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