“I fear my arrival was ill-timed, gentlemen. Seven had the floor, and I confess to finding what I happened to overhear extremely interesting. If he will be good enough to continue ...”
The Irishman gave a light, derisive laugh. Shifting uneasily in his chair, the man in the checked suit flushed darkly, then stiffened his spine, hardened his eyes, set his jaw, and faced Number One defiantly.
“You ’eard ... I ’olds by w’at I said.”
“I am to understand, then, you think it time for me to abdicate and let another lead you in my stead?”
The Englishman assented with an inarticulate monosyllable and a surly nod.
“And may one ask why?”
“Blue’s plice in Pekin Street was r’ided this afternoon,” Seven announced truculently. “But per’aps you didn’t know—”
“Not until some time before the news reached you,” One replied, pleasantly. “And what of it?”
“Three fycers in a week, Gov’ner—anybody’ll tell you that’s comin’ it a bit thick.”
“Granted. What then?”