“Quite,” I replied.
We went into the wings and the curtain rose.
“I time you, of course,” said my friend, taking out his watch. “You have stayed under five minutes in Paris, haven't you?”
I had discovered my vocation at last. The Amphibious Neptune was a record-breaking diver.
“Ten,” I answered, carelessly, and with such an air as I thought appropriate to my reputation I walked onto the stage.
“Gentlemen and ladies!” shouted my friend, coming up to the foot-lights. “This is the world-famed Neptune, who has repeatedly stayed under water for periods of from eight to ten minutes! He is rightly styled—”
But at this point his voice was lost in such an uproar as, I flatter myself, greets the appearance of few Umpire artistes. “Good old Juggins!” they shouted. “Good old Juggins!” I was recognized now, and I must live up to my reputation as the high-spirited representative of Jesus College, Oxford.
