'I think they might become nervous and tear me to bits,' the philosopher
of Foggia replied.

'Not really? Well?'

'Open the bilge-doors,' said Takahira with a downward jerk of the thumb.

'Scarcely--after all the trouble we've taken to save 'em,' said De
Forest.

'Try London,' Arnott suggested. 'You could turn Satan himself loose
there, and they'd only ask him to dinner.'

'Good man! You've given me an idea. Vincent! Oh, Vincent!' He threw the
General Communicator open so that we could all hear, and in a few
minutes the chart-room filled with the rich, fruity voice of Leopold
Vincent, who has purveyed all London her choicest amusements for the
last thirty years. We answered with expectant grins, as though we were
actually in the stalls of, say, the Combination on a first night.

'We've picked up something in your line,' De Forest began.

'That's good, dear man. If it's old enough. There's nothing to beat the
old things for business purposes. Have you seen _London, Chatham, and
Dover_ at Earl's Court? No? I thought I missed you there. Immense! I've
had the real steam locomotive engines built from the old designs and the
iron rails cast specially by hand. Cloth cushions in the carriages, too!
Immense! And paper railway tickets. And Polly Milton.'

'Polly Milton back again!' said Arnott rapturously. 'Book me two stalls