He went on talking at high pressure, exaggerating his expressions,
heightening his humorous touches with punctuations of rather wild
laughter. At last he came to a stop with a half suppressed "Ah!" and a
long indrawing of the breath.

"That's over," he said. "Give me a drop of brandy--there's a good
fellow." I gave him his nip. Then I explained to him that I couldn't
work for the _Hour_; that I wasn't on terms with de Mersch.

"Been dropping money over him?" he asked, cheerfully. I explained a
little more--that there was a lady.

"Oh, it's _that_," Fox said. "The man _is_ a fool ... But anyhow Mersch
don't count for much in this particular show. He's no money in it even,
so you may put your pride in your pocket, or wherever you keep it. It's
all right. Straight. He's only the small change."

"But," I said, "everyone says; you said yourself...."

"To be sure," he answered. "But you don't think that _I_ play second
fiddle to a bounder of that calibre. Not really?"

He looked at me with a certain seriousness. I remembered, as I had
remembered once before, that Fox was a personality--a power. I had never
realised till then how entirely--fundamentally--different he was from
any other man that I knew. He was surprising enough to have belonged to
another race. He looked at me, not as if he cared whether I gave him his
due or no, but as if he were astonished at my want of perception of the
fact. He let his towzled head fall back upon the plush cushions. "You
might kick him from here to Greenland for me," he said; "I wouldn't