"And the Abyssinian Ambassador rag!" cried Herbert. "What
price that? When the DREADNOUGHT manned the yards for him and
gave him seventeen guns. That was an Oxford rag, and carried
through by Oxford men. The country hasn't stopped laughing
yet. You give us a rag!" challenged Herbert. " Make it as
hard as you like; something risky, something that will make
the country sit up, something that will send us all to jail,
and Phil and I will put it through whether it takes one man
or a dozen. Go on," he persisted, "And I bet we can get fifty
volunteers right here in town and all of them
undergraduates."

"Give you the idea, yes!" mocked Bellew, trying to gain time.
"That's just what I say. You boys to-day are so dull. You
lack initiative. It's the idea that counts. Anybody can do
the acting. That's just amateur theatricals!"

"Is it!" snorted Herbert. "If you want to know what stage
fright is, just go on board a British battle-ship with your
face covered with burnt cork and insist on being treated like
an ambassador. You'll find it's a little different from a
first night with the Simla Thespians!"

Ford had no part in the debate. He had been smoking
comfortably and with well-timed nods, impartially encouraging
each disputant. But now he suddenly laid his cigar upon his
plate, and, after glancing quickly about him, leaned eagerly
forward. They were at the corner table of the terrace, and,
as it was now past nine o'clock, the other diners had
departed to the theatres and they were quite alone. Below