“My learned junior is premature,” he replied. “I had already arranged a little festivity⁠—or rather had modified one that was already arranged. You remember Mr. Marchmont, the solicitor?”

“Yes.”

“He called this morning to ask me to lunch with him and a new client at the ‘Cheshire Cheese.’ I accepted and notified him that I should bring you.”

“Why the ‘Cheshire Cheese’?” I asked.

“Why not? Marchmont’s reasons for the selection were, first, that his client has never seen an old-fashioned London tavern, and second, that this is Wednesday and he, Marchmont, has a gluttonous affection for a really fine beefsteak pudding. You don’t object, I hope?”

“Oh, not at all. In fact, now that you mention it, my own sensations incline me to sympathize with Marchmont. I breakfasted rather early.”