There is always something infinitely pathetic in the sight of a strong man in pain.
Mr.Labouchere turned upon him.
"Go," he cried, "or I will call the servants." "You forget," said Andrew, "that I am your guest." But his host only pointed to the door.
Andrew felt a great sinking at his heart.

They prate who say it is success that tries a man.

He flung himself at Mr.Labouchere's feet.
"Think of the public funeral," he cried.
His host seized the bell-rope and pulled it violently.
"If you will do it," said Andrew solemnly, "I promise to lay flowers on your grave every day till I die." "John," said Mr.Labouchere, "show this gentleman out." Andrew rose.
"You refuse ?" he asked.
"I do." "You won't think it over?
If I call again, say on Thursday--" "John!" said Mr.Labouchere.
Andrew took up his hat.

His host thought he had gone.

But in the hall his reflection in a looking-glass reminded the visitor of something.
He put his head in at the doorway again.
"Would you mind telling me," he said, "whether you see anything peculiar about my neck ?" "It seems a good neck to twist," Mr.Labouchere answered, a little savagely.
Andrew then withdrew..