There had been a noticeable eagerness, a noticeable anger in Linforth's voice.
"You ?" said Ralston quietly.

"_You_ want to help?
You were Shere Ali's friend." Ralston smiled as he spoke, but there was no hint of irony in either words or smile.

It was a smile rather of tolerance, and almost of regret--the smile of a man who was well accustomed to seeing the flowers and decorative things of life wither over-quickly, and yet was still alert and not indifferent to the change.

His work for the moment was done.

He leaned back thoughtfully in his chair.