The Napoleon of Notting Hill
pinned the piece of yellow paper to the green silk and silver-lace adornments of his breast. Then he turned his eyes round again, searching and unsatisfied.
"Anything else I can do, sir?" asked Lambert, with the absurd politeness of the Englishman when once embarrassed.
"Red," said the stranger, vaguely, "red."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I beg yours also, Señor," said the stranger, bowing. "I was wondering whether any of you had any red about you."
"Any red about us?—well really—no, I don't think I have—I used to carry a red bandanna once, but—"
"Barker," asked Auberon Quin, suddenly, "where's your red cockatoo? Where's your red cockatoo?"
"What do you mean?" asked Barker, desperately. "What cockatoo? You've never seen me with any cockatoo."
"I know," said Auberon, vaguely mollified. "Where's it been all the time?"
Barker swung round, not without resentment.
"I am sorry, sir," he said, shortly but civilly, "none of us seem to have anything red to lend you. But why, if one may ask—"
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