E-text prepared by Steven desJardins
and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
"A club for diplomats and gentlemen," Prince Karschoff remarked, lookinglazily through a little cloud of tobacco smoke around the spacious butalmost deserted card room. "The classification seems comprehensiveenough, yet it seems impossible to get even a decent rubber of bridge."
Sir Daniel Harker, a many years retired plenipotentiary to one of thesmaller Powers, shrugged his shoulders.
"Personally, I have come to the conclusion," he declared, "that theraison d'être for the club seems to be passing. There is no diplomacy,nowadays, and every man who pays his taxes is a gentleman. Kingley, youare the youngest. Ransack the club and find a fourth."
The Honourable Nigel Kingley smiled lazily from the depths of hiseasy-chair. He was a young Englishman of normal type, long-limbed,clean-shaven, with good features, a humorous mouth and keen grey eyes.
"In actual years," he admitted, "I may have the advantage of you two,but so far as regards the qualities of youth, Karschoff is the youngestman here. Besides, no one could refuse him anything."
"It is a subterfuge," the Prince objected, "but if I must go, I will gopresently. We will wait five minutes, in case Providence should be kindto us."
The three men relapsed into silence. They