The smaller man drew back; a shiver seemed to run over him. "They're a
long while about the steak," he murmured.

"For your testimony helped to send him over the water, I believe?" went
on the other.

"How do you--? I ain't on the stand now, Mr. Steele!" A spark of
defiance momentarily came into Dandy Joe's eyes.

"No; no!" John Steele leaned back, half closed his eyes; again pain,
fatigue seemed creeping over him. Outside sounded the clicking and
clinking of glasses, a staccato of guffaws, tones _vivace_. "The harm's
been done so far as you are concerned; you, as a factor, have
disappeared from the case."

"Glad to hear you say so, Mr. Steele. I mean," the other's voice was
uncertain, cautious, "that's a matter long since dead and done with.
Didn't imagine you ever knew about it; because that was before your
time; you weren't even in London then." The keen eyes of the listener
rested steadily on the other; seemed to read deeper. "But as for my
testimony helping to send him over the water--"

"Or under!" _sotto voce_.

Joe swallowed. "It was true, every word of it."

"Good!" John Steele spoke almost listlessly. "Always stick by any one
who sticks to you,--whether a friend, or a pal, or a patron."