Adrien laughed.
"Or I to them," he said cheerfully. "It's no light thing to sit through
a bad play. But how is that, Jasper? You said it would run."
"I?" protested Vermont, with a pleasant smile. "No, Adrien, not so
certainly as that. I said I thought the play well written, and that in
my opinion it ought to run well--a very different thing. Eh, Shelton?"
"Ah!" replied Shelton, who had been watching him keenly. "So you were
out in your reckoning for once. It is to be hoped you didn't make the
same mistake with the colt. I think you were also favourably inclined to
that, weren't you?"
"Yes," admitted Vermont, leaning back with an admirable air of content.
"I laid my usual little bet, and lost--of course."
"You should have hedged," said Shelton, who knew as a positive fact that
Vermont had done so.
"I have no judgement," Vermont responded deprecatingly. "I am a man of
no ideas, and I admit it. Now Adrien is all acuteness; without him I
should soon go astray. I am supposed to look after his interests; but,
by Jove! it is he who supplies the brains and I the hands. I am the
machine--a mere machine, and he turns the handle!" He laughed gently at
his own joke, and held up his glass for replenishment.
"A pretty division of labour," commented Shelton, with a faint sneer.
"Now we give you the credit for all the tact and business capacity."
"Ah, what a mistake!" replied Vermont, spreading out his fat hands with
a gesture of amusement. "Well, since you give me credit, I will assume
the virtue, though I have it not."
He changed the subject adroitly to one of general interest; and as the
wine came and disappeared with greater rapidity, the talk ran on with
more wit and laughter, Vermont always handling the ball of conversation
deftly, and giving it an additional fillip when it seemed to slacken.
Adrien Leroy spoke little; though when he did make a remark, the rest
listened with an evident desire to hear his opinion.
At length Vermont rose, with a lazy look round.
"Well, I must be off," he said smoothly. "Good-night, Adrien. I shall be
with you to-morrow at twelve."
Having bade the rest of the company a hasty adieu, he turned once more
to his host.
"Good-night, Shelton," he said smilingly. "Thanks for the excellent
dinner. Rome would not have perished had you lived with the last of
Cæsars."