distinguish one waiter from another much as we pick our hat from the
rack. We could have plotted a murder safely before William. He never
presumed to have any opinions of his own. When such was my mood he
remained silent, and if I announced that something diverting had
happened to me he laughed before I told him what it was. He turned the
twinkle in his eye off or on at my bidding as readily as if it was the
gas. To my "Sure to be wet to-morrow," he would reply, "Yes, sir;" and
to Trelawney's "It doesn't look like rain," two minutes afterward, he
would reply, "No, sir." It was one member who said Lightning Rod would
win the Derby and another who said Lightning Rod had no chance, but it
was William who agreed with both. He was like a cheroot, which may be
smoked from either end. So used was I to him that, had he died or got
another situation (or whatever it is such persons do when they disappear
from the club), I should probably have told the head waiter to bring him
back, as I disliked changes.

It would not become me to know precisely when I began to think William
an ingrate, but I date his lapse from the evening when he brought me
oysters. I detest oysters, and no one knew it better than William. He
has agreed with me that he could not understand any gentleman's liking
them. Between me and a certain member who smacks his lips twelve times
to a dozen of them William knew I liked a screen to be placed until we
had reached the soup, and yet he gave me the oysters and the other man
my sardine. Both the other member and I quickly called for brandy and
the head waiter. To do William justice, he shook, but never can I forget
his audacious explanation: "Beg pardon, sir, but I was thinking of
something else."

In these words William had flung off the mask, and now I knew him for
what he was.