"Just the same, we've got to be prepared for emergencies. Have you got plenty of pepper?"
Vernon groaned again.
"Plenty! I tell you fellows I'll ruin my health if I keep this up much longer. I might easily burst a blood-vessel. People often do when they sneeze."
"Well, we'll have to take the risk," said Blake, with grim complacency.
"Much risk you take! In fact, I saw you sprinkling pepper on my handkerchief this morning, when there wasn't the slightest need of it."
"Now, see here," protested Collins, sharply, "what's the use of all this argument? We've got to see this thing through, whether we like it or not. I've sent for Scaddam, so he'll be on the scene in case of emergencies—"
"You mean, if I break a blood-vessel?" inquired Vernon, politely.
"Oh, break your grandmother! I tell you—"
There was a second tap on the door and Vernon again made a dive for the inner room. This time, a note was handed in. Collins closed the door, tore open the envelope nervously, and ran his eyes quickly over the contents.
"Come out here, you beggar," he called, and Vernon reappeared on the threshold. "Take a look at this," he added, and held out the note. "Maybe you won't be so cocksure hereafter that diplomats are always making mountains out of mole-hills."