“Oh, I can usually get off.”
“But oughtn't you to be at your post doing—whatever it is you do? What do you do?”
Ginger stirred his tea thoughtfully and gave his mind to the question.
“Well, I sort of mess about, you know.” He pondered. “I interview divers blighters and tell 'em your brother is out and take their names and addresses and... oh, all that sort of thing.”
“Does Fillmore consult you much?”
“He lets me read some of the plays that are sent in. Awful tosh most of them. Sometimes he sends me off to a vaudeville house of an evening.”
“As a treat?”
“To see some special act, you know. To report on it. In case he might want to use it for this revue of his.”
“Which revue?”
“Didn't you know he was going to put on a revue? Oh, rather. A whacking big affair. Going to cut out the Follies and all that sort of thing.”