"How am I to lead up to the subject of chauffeurs?" broke in Mr. Cricklewick weakly. "I can hardly begin talking about chauffeurs—er—out of a clear sky, you might say."
"Don't begin by talking about chauffeurs," she counselled. "Lead up to the issue by speaking of the friendly relations that exist between England and America, and proceed with the hope that nothing may ever transpire to sever the bond of blood—and so on. You know what I mean. It is quite simple. And then look a little serious and distressed,—that ought to be easy, Mr. Cricklewick. You must see how naturally it all leads up to the unfortunate affair of your young countryman, whom you are bound to defend,—and we are bound to defend,—no matter what the consequences may be."
Two minutes later she arose triumphant, and put on her stole. Her eyes were sparkling.
"I knew you couldn't stand by and see this outrageous thing done to Eric Temple. Thank you. I—goodness gracious, I quite forgot a most important thing. In the event that our little scheme does not have the desired result, and they persist in persecuting him, we must have something to fall back upon. I know McFaddan very slightly. (She did not speak of the ex-footman as Mr. McFaddan, nor did Cricklewick take account of the omission). He is, I am informed, one of the most influential men in New York,—one of the political bosses, Mr. Smith-Parvis says. He says he is a most unprincipled person. Well, don't you see, he is just the sort of person to fall back upon if all honest measures fail?"
Mr. Cricklewick rather blankly murmured something about "honest measures," and then mopped his brow. Miss Emsdale's enthusiasm, while acutely ingenuous, had him "sweating blood," as he afterwards put it during a calm and lucid period of retrospection.
"I—I assure you I have no influence with McFaddan," he began, looking at his handkerchief,—and being relieved, no doubt, to find no crimson stains,—applied it to his neck with some confidence and vigour. "In fact, we differ vastly in—"
"McFaddan, being in a position to dictate to the police and, if it should come to the worst, to the magistrates, is a most valuable man to have on our side, Mr. Cricklewick. If you could see him tomorrow morning,—I suppose it is too late to see him this evening,—and tell him just what you want him to do, I'm sure—"
"But, Miss Emsdale, you must allow me to say that McFaddan will absolutely refuse to take orders from me. He is no longer what you might say—er—in a position to be—er—you see what I mean, I hope."
"Nonsense!" she said, dismissing his objection with a word. "McFaddan is an Irishman and therefore eternally committed to the under dog, right or wrong. When you explain the circumstances to him, he will come to our assistance like a flash. And don't, overlook the fact, Mr. Cricklewick, that McFaddan will never see the day when he can ignore a—a request from you." She had almost said command, but caught the word in time. "By the way, poor Trotter is out of a situation, and I may as well confess to you that he can ill afford to be without one. It has just occurred to me that you may know of some one among your wealthy friends, Mr. Cricklewick, who is in need of a good man. Please rack your brain. Some one to whom you can recommend him as a safe, skilful and competent chauffeur."
"I am glad you mention it," said he, brightening perceptibly in the light of something tangible. "This afternoon I was called up on the telephone by a party—by some one, I mean to say,—asking for information concerning Klausen, the man who used to drive for me. I was obliged to say that his habits were bad, and that I could not recommend him. It was Mrs. Ellicott Millidew who inquired."