"
Then I dropped the spent cartridge into an ash-tray, returned the pistol to
my pocket and was just stretching out my hand to touch the bell when old
Withergreen, the _doyen_ of the club, interposed.
"Pardon me," he said, "I am a little deaf, but almost simultaneously with
the fall of this member upon the hearthrug I fancied I heard the report of
a firearm. May I claim an old man's privilege and ask if I am right in
presuming a connection between the two occurrences, and, if so, whether
there has been any recent relaxation of our time-honoured rule against
assassination on the club premises?"
Shouting into his ear-trumpet, I said, "I fired the shot, Sir, which killed
the member now lying upon the hearthrug. I did so because he addressed me
in a form of salutation which I regard as peculiarly objectionable. He
called me 'Old Sport,' an expression used by bookmakers and such."
"Um! Old Port?" mumbled old Withergreen.
"OLD SPORT," I shouted more loudly. Then I stepped to the writing-table,
took a dictionary from among the books of reference, found the place I
wanted and returned to the ear-trumpet.
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