Tietjens said:
"I won't. I can't. I've got to wait here for a wire from Sylvia."
Macmaster groaned:
"Oh dear! Oh dear!" Then he said hopefully: "But we could have it forwarded to Hythe."
Tietjens said with some vehemence:
"I tell you I won't leave here. I tell you I've settled it with the police and that swine of a Cabinet Minister. I've mended the leg of the canary of the wife of the police-constable. Sit down and be reasonable. The police don't touch people like us."
Macmaster said:
"I don't believe you realise the public feeling there is . . ."
"Of course I do, amongst people like Sandbach," Tietjens said. "Sit down I tell you. . . . Have some whisky. . . ." He filled himself out another long tumbler and, holding it, dropped into a too low-seated, reddish wicker arm-chair that had cretonne fixings. Beneath his weight the chair sagged a good deal and his dress-shirt front bulged up to his chin.
Macmaster said: