Colonel Menendez waved his cigarette gracefully, settling himself amid
the cushions.
"An old trouble, Mr. Harley," he replied, lightly; "a legacy from
ancestors who drank too deep of the wine of life."
"You are surely taking medical advice?"
Colonel Menendez shrugged slightly.
"There is no doctor in England who would understand the case," he
replied. "Besides, there is nothing for it but rest and avoidance of
excitement."
"In that event, Colonel," said Harley, "we will not disturb you for
long. Indeed, I should not have consented to disturb you at all, if I
had not thought that you might have some request to make upon this
important night."
"Ah!" Colonel Menendez shot a swift glance in his direction. "You have
remembered about to-night?"
"Naturally."
"Your interest comforts me very greatly, gentlemen, and I am only sorry
that my uncertain health has made me so poor a host. Nothing has
occurred since your arrival to help you, I am aware. Not that I am
anxious for any new activity on the part of my enemies. But almost
anything which should end this deathly suspense would be welcome."
He spoke the final words with a peculiar intonation.
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