Farrell began to stutter. "A most untoward—er—incident, Sir Roderick—most untoward! Compromising, I fear?"
"You've lost us the seat, that's all," I told him.
"Oh, I trust not—I trust not!" he protested. "Might the reporters be—er—"
"Squared?" I suggested.
"Induced—yes, induced—to omit the—er—personal reference?"
"Like the Scarlet Mr. E's," suggested Jimmy, "or the Scarlet Pimpernel—rather a good name for you, Farrell. Better than Martin Luther, anyway. The Scarlet Pimpernel, or Two in a Taxi, Not to Mention the Lady. Or—wait a bit—Peter and Petunia, or Marooned in Soho. Reader, do you know the 'Catalafina'? If not, let me—"
"Jimmy," I commanded, "don't make an ass of yourself.… As for you, Mr. Farrell, let me remind you of a pretty wise saying of somebody's—that influence is jolly useful until you have used it. If I remember, I strained my little stock of it with these reporters two nights ago."
"I wouldn't jib at expense, Sir Roderick," he whimpered.
"Don't kick him, Otty," Jimmy implored. "He's down. And listen to me, Farrell," he went on, swinging about. "You can't help it: it's the Hire System working out through the pores. You don't perspire what you think you're perspiring, though you're doing it freely enough.… Now, Otty—for my sake—if you don't mind!"
"Well then, Mr. Farrell," said I, "I'm ready to do this much for you.—We'll find a taxi here and now for the Whips' Offices and take their advice. Having taken it, I am willing to drive straight back to your Committee Rooms with the Head Office's decision."