"My man, right enough," Mr. Joseph H. Parker muttered. "Don't seem to
notice him particularly," he added, "but tell me what he is doing."

"He seems to have entered in a hurry," I announced, "and is now taking off
his overcoat. He is wearing, I perceive, a bowler hat, a dinner jacket,
the wrong-shaped collar; and he appears to have forgotten to change his
boots."

"That's Cullen, all right," Mr. Joseph H. Parker groaned. "You're a person
of observation, sir. Well, I've been in tighter corners than this--thanks
to you!"

"Who is Mr. Cullen and what does he want?" I asked.

"Mr. Cullen," my guest declared, sampling the fresh bottle of wine which
had just been brought to him, "is one of those misguided individuals whose
lack of faith in his fellows will bring him some time or other to a bad
end. My young friend, sip that wine thoughtfully--don't hurry over it--and
tell me whether my choice is not better than yours?"

"Possibly," I remarked, with a glance at the yellow seal, "your pocket is
longer. By the by, your friend is coming toward us."

"It is not a question of pocket," Mr. Parker continued, disregarding my
remark, "it is a question of taste and judgment; discrimination is perhaps
the word I should use. Now in my younger days--Eh? What's that?"

The person named Cullen had paused at my table. His hand was resting
gently upon the shoulder of my self-invited guest. Mr. Parker looked up
and appeared to recognize him with much surprise.