“Benson,” he said, “the back seat of the large touring car is hinged and lifts up, once the cushion is removed, doesn't it?”
“Yes, sir,” Benson answered promptly.
“And there's space enough for, say, a man inside, isn't there?”
“Why, yes, sir; I suppose so—at a squeeze”—Benson stared blankly.
“Quite so!” said Jimmie Dale calmly. “Now, another matter, Benson: I believe some chauffeurs have a habit, when occasion lends itself, of taking, shall we say, their 'best girl' out riding in their masters' machines?”
“SOME might,” Benson replied, a little stiffly. “I hope you don't think, sir, that—”
“One moment, Benson. The point is, it's done—quite generally?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you have a 'best girl,' or at least could find one for such a purpose, if you were so inclined?”
“Yes, sir,” said Benson; “but—”