"Sir, I am in a terrible dilemma. I have lost my passport. I trusted it to a rascally policeman to take to the bureau to get visé, and now I am apprehended, put in a miserable prison, called a rogue and vagabond by a confounded commissaire." The effect of my eloquence on the attaché was amusing. Down went the paper.
"Oh, I say—you know—you mustn't—indeed, you mustn't. The office can't be approached in this manner—very irregular, by Jove, very irregular."
"What must I do? The consequences may be fearful——"
"Write to Lord John Russell at the F. O. If he knows anything about you, you can petition Lord Cowley, and in the course of a few weeks——"
"A few weeks! a cycle of years! I must be liberated at once. The safety, nay, the very life of a helpless boy depends upon it."
"Oh, I say, you know, you mustn't get so excited, by Jove, you know; you mustn't indeed. Very irregular—'pon honor, I never saw such irregularity."
The Adam was aroused in me—I couldn't help it.
"Sir!" I roared, "you are here for the protection of the British subject——"
"No, you know," he interrupted. "Consul, that sort of thing. By Jove, never saw such a fellow."
"You are placed here for use or ornament. You are, sir, a failure in either capacity."