"We can but try," said I.

"You can but close your ugly head," said Berry. "If you want to walk
about London half the night, looking like a demobilised pantaloon, push
off and do it. But don't try and rope in innocent parties."

To this insult I made an appropriate reply, and the argument waxed. At
length----

"There's no reason," said Jonah, "why we shouldn't go on like this for
ever. If we had any sense, we should send for Fitch and desire his
opinion. It's rather more valuable than any one of ours, and, after all,
he's more or less interested. And you can trust him."

Now, Fitch was our chauffeur.

Amid a chorus of approval, I went to the telephone to speak to the
garage.

I was still waiting to be connected, when--

"Is that the Club?" said a voice.

"No," said I. "Nothing like it."

"Well, there's a bag of mine in the hall, and----"

"No, there isn't," said I.