leigh laugh—it sounded like a man gargling with salad oil.
I turned to Chelubai and said: "Is the rascal never going to get into a quiet corner where we can knock him on the head?"
I must have spoken with impatient ferocity, for Chelubai said: "For God's sake, do nothing rash! You can't expect an exalted mission like ours to be easy."
"Easy!" I groaned. "The King's Palace of Varieties on the top of a Franco-Italian dinner!"
"After all, it might have been Slatty and Gaiter's," said Chelubai.
I had not thought of that, and it quieted me. A succession of gymnasts and the ventriloquist of my childhood reduced me after a while to a state of apathy not far removed from imbecility. But at last the entertainment came to an end, and the jostling crowd revived me again to the philanthropic pitch.
Our enemies came out before us and stood on the curb waiting for a hansom. I took Chelubai by the arm, thrust him into the first that came, and bidding the driver drive to Vauxhall Station, jumped in after him.
As the cab started Chelubai said: "I don't like this. We ought not to lose sight of them."
"Tell the driver to follow their cab, I suppose, and provide a witness who could not only swear
