"Well?" said the first person, eying Bean as if this explained everything.
"Take a little spin," said Bean.
"Paul!"
Paul issued from the office, a shock-headed, slouching youth in extreme negligée, a half-burned cigarette dangling from his lower lip. He yawned without dislodging the cigarette.
"Gentleman wants to g'wout." Paul vanished.
Nap had already leaped to a seat in the red car. He had learned what those things were for.
Paul reappeared, trim in leathern cap, well-fitting Norfolk jacket and shining puttees.
"Never know he only had on an undershirt," thought Bean, struck by this swiftly devised effect of correct dressing. He sat in the roomy rear seat beside Nap, leaning an elbow negligently on the arm-rest. He watched Paul shrewdly in certain mysterious preparations for starting the car. An observer would have said that one false move on Paul's part would have been enough.
The car rolled out and turned into the wide avenue half a block away.
"Where to, Boss?" asked Paul.