Only Hillyard was mystified.
"Your honorary member!" he inquired.
Luttrell nodded solemnly, and raised his glass.
"Gentlemen, the Honorary Member of the Senga Mess--Sir Chichester Splay." The toast was drunk with enthusiasm by all but Hillyard, who sat staring about him and wondering what in the world the Mecaenas of the First Nights had in common with these youthful administrators far-flung to the Equator.
"You don't drink, Martin," cried Luttrell.

A Socialist at a Public Dinner who refused to honour the Royal Toast could only have scandalised the chairman by a few degrees more than Hillyard's indifference did now.
"I beg your pardon," said Hillyard with humility.

"I repair my error now.

It was due to amazement." "Amazement!" Colin Rayne repeated, as Hillyard drained his glass.
"Yes.

For I know the man." There was the silence that follows some stupendous happening; eyes were riveted upon Hillyard in admiration; and then the silence burst.
"He knows him!" "It's incredible!" "Actually knows him!" And suddenly above the din Blacker's voice rose warningly.
"Don't let's lose our heads! That's the great thing! Let us keep as calm as we can and think out our questions very carefully lest the Heaven-sent Bearer of Great Tidings should depart without revealing all he knows." Chairs were hitched a little closer about Hillyard.