that, Mr. Cricklewick," she interrupted, frowning slightly.
"Quite true,—but I should be telling a falsehood if I said anything of the sort."
"Knowing you to be an absolutely truthful and reliable man, Mr. Cricklewick," she said mendaciously, "they would not even dream of questioning your veracity. They do not believe you capable of telling a falsehood. Can't you see how splendidly it would all work out?"
Mr. Cricklewick couldn't see, and said so.
"Besides," he went on, "suppose that it should get to the ears of the Ambassador."
"In that event, you could run over to Washington and tell him in private just who Thomas Trotter is, and then everything would be quite all right. You see," she went on earnestly, "all you have to do is to drop a few words for the benefit of young Mr. Smith-Parvis. He looks upon you as one of the most powerful and influential men in the city, and he wouldn't have you discover that he is in anyway connected with such a vile, underhanded—"
"How am I to lead up to the subject of chauffeurs?" broke in Mr. Cricklewick weakly. "I can hardly begin talking about chauffeurs—er—out of a clear sky, you might say."
"Don't begin by talking about chauffeurs," she counselled. "Lead up to the issue by speaking of the friendly relations that exist between England and America, and proceed with the hope that nothing may ever transpire to sever the bond of blood—and so on. You know what I mean. It is quite simple. And then
