Hume, who glared at his host with uncompromising hostility, and had not taken any part in the conversation, shook his head.
Brett surprised both, for different reasons, by readily falling in with Capella's suggestion.
"A whisky and soda would be most grateful," he said.
The Italian moved towards the bell.
"Permit me!" cried Brett.
He rose in awkward haste, and upset his chair with a loud crash on the parquet floor.
"How stupid of me!" he exclaimed, whilst Hume wondered what had happened to flurry the barrister, and Capella smothered a curse.
A distant bell jangled.

By tacit consent, there was no further talk until a servant appeared.

The man was a stranger to Hume.
Oddly enough, Brett took but a very small allowance of the spirit.

In reality, he hated alcohol in any form during the earlier hours.

He was wont to declare that it not only disturbed his digestion but destroyed his taste for tobacco.