statement as a fact."

"Won't you sit down?" said Winter quietly. "And-- may I smoke? I
didn't like to ask Bates for permission to light up in your absence."

Theydon was not to be outdone in coolness. He opened a corner cupboard
and produced various boxes.

"The cigars are genuine Havanas," he said. "A birthday present from a
maiden aunt, who is wise enough to judge the quality of tobacco by the
price. Here, too, are Virginian, Turkish and Egyptian cigarettes."

Winter inspected the cigars gravely.

"By Jove!" he cried, his big eyes bulging in joyous surprise. "Last
year's crop from the Don Juan y Guerrero plantation. Treasure that
aunt of yours, Mr. Theydon. None but herself can be her equal."

Theydon saw that the little man did not follow his chief's example.

"Don't you smoke?" he said.

"No, but if you'll not be horrified, I would like to smell one of
those Turks."

"Smell it?"

"Yes. That is the only way to enjoy the aroma and avoid nicotine
poisoning. My worthy chief dulls a sound intellect by the cigar habit.
What is worse, he excites a nervous system which is normally somewhat