‘I behaved like a cad with my chaff,’ he said to himself, ‘but hang me if I see how to help her. And I rather admire that cook.’
He went into the inner room, wakened the sleeping partner, Logan, on the sofa, and unfolded the case with every detail. ‘What can we do, que faire!’
‘There’s an exhibition of modern, mediæval, ancient, and savage cookery at Earl’s Court, the Cookeries,’ said Logan. ‘Couldn’t we seduce an artist like Miss Blowser there, I mean thither of course, the night before the dinner, and get her up into the Great Wheel and somehow stop the Wheel—and make her too late for her duties?’
‘And how are you going to stop the Wheel?’
‘Speak to the Man at the Wheel. Bribe the beggar.’
‘Dangerous, and awfully expensive. Then think of all the other people on the Wheel! Logan, vous chassez de race. The old Restalrig blood is in your veins.’
‘My ancestors nearly nipped off with a king, and why can’t I carry off a cook? Hustle her into a hansom—’
‘Oh, bah! these are not modern methods.’
‘Il n’y a rien tel que d’enlever,’ said Logan.
‘I never shall stain the cause with police-courts,’ said Merton. ‘It would be fatal.’