He whistled.
I turned again to the local talent.
"Gentlemen!" I shouted.
"Hear, hear!" said some idiot.
"Gentlemen, I intend to be quite frank with you. We must decide just how matters stand between us." (A voice: "Where's Ukridge?") "Mr. Ukridge left for London suddenly (bitter laughter) yesterday afternoon. Personally I think he will come back very shortly."
Hoots of derision greeted this prophecy.
I resumed:
"I fail to see your object in coming here. I have nothing for you. I couldn't pay your bills if I wanted to."
It began to be borne in upon me that I was becoming unpopular.
"I am here simply as Mr. Ukridge's guest," I proceeded. After all, why should I spare the man? "I have nothing whatever to do with his business affairs. I refuse absolutely to be regarded as in any way indebted to you. I am sorry for you. You have my sympathy. That is all I can give you, sympathy—and good advice."