George's eyes opened simultaneously with his mouth.

"Me?" he gasped. "Alone?"

P. Sybarite shook his head. "One of a party of four."

"Who else?" George demanded with pardonable caution.

"Miss Prim, Miss Leasing, myself."

Removing his apron of ticking, the shipping clerk opened a drawer in
his desk, took put a pair of cuffs, and begun to adjust them to the
wristbands of his shirt.

"Since when did you begin to snuff coke?" he enquired with mild
compassion.

"I'm not joking." P. Sybarite displayed the tickets. "A friend sent me
these. I'll make up the party for to-night as I said, and let you come
along--on one condition."

"Go to it."

"You must promise me to quit calling me Perceval, here or any place
else, to-day and forever!"

George chuckled; paused; frowned; regarded P. Sybarite with narrow
suspicion.