Brett surprised both, for different reasons, by readily falling in with
Capella's suggestion.

"A whisky and soda would be most grateful," he said.

The Italian moved towards the bell.

"Permit me!" cried Brett.

He rose in awkward haste, and upset his chair with a loud crash on the
parquet floor.

"How stupid of me!" he exclaimed, whilst Hume wondered what had happened
to flurry the barrister, and Capella smothered a curse.

A distant bell jangled. By tacit consent, there was no further talk until
a servant appeared. The man was a stranger to Hume.

Oddly enough, Brett took but a very small allowance of the spirit. In
reality, he hated alcohol in any form during the earlier hours. He was
wont to declare that it not only disturbed his digestion but destroyed his
taste for tobacco. Hume did not yet know what a concession to exciting
circumstances his new-found friend had made the previous day in ordering
spirits before luncheon.

When the servant vanished, Capella settled himself in his chair with the
air of a man awaiting explanations. Yet he was restless and disturbed. He
was afraid of these two. Why? Brett determined to try the effect of
generalities.