"I say Mr. President oughter go himself. He's the only one as knows all the names. It won't be no cop to him. Why should we take all the risk and trouble and him sit at home and collar the money? Let him go himself, that's what I say."
A long rustle of approbation went round the table.
"I second that motion," said a stout man who wore a bunch of gold seals at his fob. Wimsey smiled as he looked at the seals; it was that trifling vanity which had led him directly to the name and address of the stout man, and he felt a certain affection for the trinkets on that account.
The President looked round.
"It is the wish of the meeting, then, that I should go?" he said, in an ominous voice.
Forty-five hands were raised in approbation. Only the woman known as Number Two remained motionless and silent, her strong white hands clenched on the arm of the chair.
The President rolled his eyes slowly round the threatening ring till they rested upon her.
"Am I to take it that this vote is unanimous?" he enquired.
The woman raised her head.
"Don't go," she gasped faintly.