"
"In other words," Maurice White chimed in, "we are here to take you to
the great supper-party."
"Well, I'm glad to hear about it," Wingate declared, giving his coat and
hat to the valet who had followed him in. "Why don't you fellows sit
down and have a drink?"
"My dear fellow," Kendrick sighed, "sarcasm does not become you. We are
all drinking--your whisky. Also, I believe, smoking your cigarettes. Your
servant--admirable fellow, that--absolutely forced them upon us--wouldn't
take 'no.' And indeed, why should we refuse? We have come to offer you
rivers of champagne, cigars of abnormal length, and the lips of the
fairest houris in London. In other words, Sir Frederick Houstley, steel
magnate of Sheffield, is giving a supper party to the world, and our
instructions are to convey you there by force or persuasion, drunk or
sober, sleepy or wide awake."
"I accept your cordial invitation," Wingate said, mixing himself a whisky
and soda. "At what time does the fight commence?"
"Forthwith," Kendrick announced. "We sally forth from here to the
Arcadian Rooms, situated in this building. Afterwards we make merry.
John, my boy," he went on, "you have the air of a man who has drunk deep
already to-night of the waters of happiness. Exactly where did you dine?"
"In Utopia," Wingate answered. "According to you, I am to sup in
fairyland.
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