"Olejoe," said the Duke sternly, "go home."
"'Arf a moment," said Olejoe, "I'm coming to the part that will knock you out. D'ye know the White Drover outside Victoria Station? It's a house I seldom use. But Harry does, so we went in."
"I gathered that much," said the Duke.
"'What's yours,' sez Harry. 'No,' I sez, 'it's my turn, what's yours?' 'No,' sez Harry, 'I'll pay, what's yours?' 'No,' I sez—"
"Cut it out," pleaded Hank, "forget it——"
"... when I heard a chap speakin' in the next bar: a private bar with red velvet seats. An American chap he was, like Hank."
It is a proof of Olejoe's exhilaration that he said "Hank" calmly and coolly and without a blush.
"He sez—the American chap—'I'm layin' for Dukey,' an' the other feller (I'll tell you his name in a minute, it'll come as a terrible surprise to you) sez 'Do nothin' yet,' just like that 'do nothin' yet!'
"'I've got an idea,' sez this chap—not the American chap—'that when this Duke person finds my niece has gone with us to Merroccer——'"
"To Morocco?" queried the Duke eagerly.