"Isn't that what you Americans call them? We call the little beggars beetles. This is an American book, 'Brown's Compendium of Familiar Bugs.' Rather good, that? They are familiar. Er, what?"
"Please, Mr. Fitz-Brown," she protested, but there was no stopping him.
"Potato bugs and spinach bugs and cauliflower bugs," he rattled on. "I say, do you know how to tell a spinach bug, Miss Thompson?"
"No, but——"
"Ah, I was sure you wouldn't," continued the delighted agriculturist. "Spinach bugs have red backs and green whiskers. Say it over to yourself—red backs and green whiskers."
"My dear Mr. Fitz-Brown, I really can't——"
"Oh, yes, you can," insisted Lionel. "It's perfectly easy except cauliflower bugs. Let me see! Cauliflower bugs," he paused to consult the book.
"You must put the book away and help me. I've got to send a cablegram. There isn't a minute to lose."
The gardener's face clouded with visions of charges at a shilling a word. "A cablegram! By Jove! I'll see, but——" he began to search through his pockets.
"It isn't that," said Betty. "I have the money. It's to get it there in time. The cable office is a mile away and we've only twenty minutes. I tried to telephone it, but the thing doesn't work. I'm afraid Anton has tampered with the wires."