Having tiffined, we reclined upon a divan.
"My father," said Mr. Jacobs, "had but one wife; I have already raised him two, as I told you, and mean to go him one better."
I smoked in silence.
"A hint for the Calcutta Jackal," I thought, with satisfaction. "Bigamy raised to the third power."
"You are right," he said, slowly, his half-closed eyes fixed on his feet; "yes, you are right. But why not?"
I shook myself, drank some sherbert, and kicked off one shoe impatiently. This reading of a gentleman's private thoughts seemed to me an unwarrantable impertinence; but a sudden light flashed over my obscured intellect, and, observing that he was in a trance, I felt it would be indelicate to argue the matter. I fired my shoe at him, to assure myself of his condition, and then held a free pass towards him. He instantly recovered, and stretched out his hand to take it.
"I must have been dreaming," he said, a look of annoyance shading his features as I drew the pass away. "But I am in love."
It was near midnight, and the ever-decreasing moon was dragging herself up, as if ashamed of her waning beauty and tearful look.