‘Only guesswork, of course,’ added Mr. Cato hastily, seeing an uneasy flush on Lord Griffinhoofe’s face. ‘Quite impracticable! Not a man we could work with.’
‘A mere talker!’
‘With the Eastern Question looming....’
‘A man who can’t say No!’
‘Russia needs a firm hand....’
‘Rosebery’s no more capable of managing Russia than I am of managing a ... well, a ... well.... And what was it you came to see me about, Mr. Cato?’
Mr. Cato entered with great detail into all the facts of Prince Dwala’s case. The great man rubbed his fat knees and assumed a sagacious look; his breath came very short, and suddenly he looked as if he were going to cry.
‘Wait a moment, Mr. Cato. If I had a bit of pencil, I should like to put your facts down, so as to get a clear idea. In what year do you say he was born?’
‘I haven’t a notion. These facts aren’t important enough to make a note of.’
‘Then you oughtn’t to tell me them. It only confuses.’