CHAPTER XV

THE LAST STRAW

"What was that you said about our having an appointment at half-past
seven?" asked Mr. Cupples as the two came out of the great gateway of
the pile of flats. "Have we such an appointment?"

"Certainly we have," replied Trent. "You are dining with me. Only one
thing can properly celebrate this occasion, and that is a dinner for
which I pay. No, no! I asked you first. I have got right down to the
bottom of a case that must be unique, a case that has troubled even my
mind for over a year, and if that isn't a good reason for standing a
dinner, I don't know what is. Cupples, we will not go to my club. This
is to be a festival, and to be seen in a London club in a state of
pleasurable emotion is more than enough to shatter any man's career.
Besides that, the dinner there is always the same, or at least they
always make it taste the same, I know not how. The eternal dinner at my
club hath bored millions of members like me, and shall bore; but
to-night let the feast be spread in vain, so far as we are concerned. We
will not go where the satraps throng the hall. We will go to
Sheppard's."

"Who is Sheppard?" asked Mr. Cupples mildly, as they proceeded up
Victoria Street. His companion went with an unnatural lightness, and a
policeman observing his face, smiled indulgently at a look of happiness
which he could only attribute to alcohol.

"Who is Sheppard?" echoed Trent with bitter emphasis. "That question, if
you will pardon me for saying so, Cupples, is thoroughly characteristic
of the spirit of aimless inquiry prevailing in this restless day. I
suggest our dining at Sheppard's and instantly you fold your arms and
demand, in a frenzy of intellectual pride, to know who Sheppard is
before you will cross the threshold of Sheppard's. I am not going to
pander to the vices of the modern mind. Sheppard's is a place where one
can dine. I do not know Sheppard. It never occurred to me that Sheppard
existed. Probably he is a myth of totemistic origin. All I know is that
you can get a bit of saddle of mutton at Sheppard's that has made many
an American visitor curse the day that Christopher Columbus was
born.... Taxi!"

A cab rolled smoothly to the curb, and the driver received his
instruction with a majestic nod.

"Another reason I have for suggesting Sheppard's," continued Trent,
feverishly lighting a cigarette, "is that I am going to be married to
the most wonderful woman in the world. I trust