“Ze Conte follow his vife to chez Armstrong, find zem togezzer, and knog our dear friend down viz a cane.”
“Humph! Serious as that?”
“Oh yes. There is a great offence, of course. Zey meet in Belgium, and we go togezzer to see ze friend of ze Conte and arrange ze—ze—ze—vat you call zem?”
“Preliminaries?”
“Precisely. Now, my dear ole friend, you put on your boot an’ ze ozaire coat, and brush your hair—oh! horreur; why do you not get zem cut short like mine?”
“Because I don’t want to look like a convict. Come in here.”
Pacey seized his tobacco-jar and a box of matches.
“Got any cigarette papers?”
“But yes, and plenty of cigarettes.”
“Come in here, then.”