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"You have got a wrong idea of the London clubman's life," said Peter. "If I crept about my club gnawing cold chicken I should have the committee after me. No, I shall stay here and look after you. After all, what is food?" "I'll tell you what yours will be, if you like. Or would you rather wait and let it be a surprise?
But fundamentally I would say that the newspaper editors who are here this week, holding a conference and tendering Harvey a banquet, mean their plainness of dress and life ... and do not hanker after the clubman's way of life as Harvey represents it to their eyes ... you just watch for what Ed. Lowe and Billy Dorgan do to our Eastern chap at the banquet ... they'll kid him till he's sick."
It's all right, isn't it?" "Certainly, it's all right. I thought that you were a lot of the idle crowd, sir, and we have had orders to keep everyone on the move. But you're all right." Mason had been appointed to the force by the Clubman's influence. Turning from his patron the policeman roughs his way through the crowd and makes the men and women "move on."
There was no reason whatever for warning Durand that they were aware of the clever trick he had pulled off in regard to the partition. From Maddock's the Whitfords drove straight to the apartment house of Clarendon Bromfield. For the third time that morning the clubman's valet found himself overborne by the insistence of visitors.
Suppose that in a suburb of London a housemaid has endeavoured to poison her employer's family by putting a drug in the coffee. Now on our side of the water we should write that little incident up in a way to give it life, and put headings over it that would capture the reader's attention in a minute. We should begin it thus: PRETTY PARLOR MAID DEALS DEATH-DRINK TO CLUBMAN'S FAMILY
He grew, in fact, insufferably conceited, and his overweening sense of his own importance became a severe trial to Fraser, who was roused to his most elaborate efforts of sarcasm. The adventurer wasted hours in a search for fitting similes by which to measure the clubman's general and comprehensive ineptitude, all of which rebounded from his victim's armor of complacency.
His eyes focused angrily on the enormous first page headlines: "CARROLL HAS SOLVED WARREN MYSTERY "Identity of Clubman's Slayer Known to Famous Detective "Sensational Developments Promised by David Carroll in Exclusive Interview with Reporter for The Star." It all came back to Carroll now. The eager reporter, the news-hunger, his non-committal statements. He read furiously through the story.
As Bromfield was cashing his chips Clay came rigidly to attention. Two men had just come into the room. One of them was "Slim" Jim Collins, the other Gorilla Dave. As yet they had not seen him. He did not look at them, but at his host. There was a question in his mind he wanted solved. The clubman's gaze passed over both the newcomers without the least sign of recognition.
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