"Mr. Donovan," said Phillips, "there's a matter I want to speak to you about. I daresay there's nothing in it; but I can't help feeling----"
Mr. Phillips' hand went to his breast pocket. He clutched the torn envelope.
"Here's something I picked up the day before yesterday," he said.
Smith stepped suddenly between him and Mr. Donovan. Smith was a hard worker, and a loud shouter when shouting was desirable. He was also, as Phillips knew, a quiet mover when he chose. He held a tray in his hand with two glasses on it. He handed one to Mr. Donovan and the other to Phillips.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but there's some cases of books come ashore, sir. I thought you'd like to arrange about them yourself, sir, seeing as how I don't understand libraries."
He spoke to Phillips. He did not expect Mr. Donovan to arrange anything.
"You're young, Phillips," said Mr. Donovan. "According to the prophets and other wise men it's a good thing to be young. I'm getting on for sixty, but there are compensations. I don't feel called on to see after things. I don't have to toil any. Smith!"
"There exist in the U. S. A. more than two hundred formulæ for the compounding of cocktails. They vary from the simple dry Martini to the more poetic Angel's Smile. How many of them do you know, Smith?"
"Few men, except professional bar-tenders, know more," said Mr. Donovan. "But you can learn. I see before you, Smith, years of artistic endeavour. Eight from two hundred leave a hundred and ninety-two. I think I have a book containing the formulæ. It was compiled by one of our leading citizens after a term of residence in a dry State. I shall give you the book, Smith. My digestion remains unimpaired up to date. I shall sample the results of your labours."
Mr. Phillips swallowed his cocktail and went away without saying any more about the torn envelope. He had no intention of telling his story in the presence of Smith.
He tried again an hour later. He calculated on not being interrupted this time. Smith had gone off to the steamer. From time to time he had to go to the steamer to act as interpreter there. Captain Wilson seemed curiously incapable of making himself understood by the islanders.
"That you again, Mr. Phillips," said Donovan. "Sit down. Take a cigar and sit down."
