"But that means a partridge, doesn't it? I'm sure I've seen it on the
menus."

"Would he talk about partridges at a time like this?"

"He might. The French are extraordinary people."

"Well, I'll have another go at him. But he's a difficult chap to chat
with. If you give him the least encouragement, he sort of goes off like
a rocket." He addressed another question to the sufferer, and listened
attentively to the voluble reply.

"Oh!" he said with sudden enlightenment. "Your job?" He turned to
Sally. "I got it that time," he said. "The trouble is, he says, that if
we yell and rouse the house, we'll get out all right, but he will lose
his job, because this is the second time this sort of thing has
happened, and they warned him last time that once more would mean the
push."

"Then we mustn't dream of yelling," said Sally, decidedly. "It means a
pretty long wait, you know. As far as I can gather, there's just a
chance of somebody else coming in later, in which case he could let us
out. But it's doubtful. He rather thinks that everybody has gone to
roost."

"Well, we must try it. I wouldn't think of losing the poor man his job.
Tell him to take the car down to the ground-floor, and then we'll just
sit and amuse ourselves till something happens. We've lots to talk
about. We can tell each other the story of our lives."