"But--er--aunt," said Spennie. "Really, I--er--I only just caught the
train. Didn't I, Pitt?"

"What? Oh, yes. Got in just as it was moving."

"That was it. I really hadn't time to telegraph. Had I, Pitt?"

"Not a minute."

"And how was it you were so late?"

Spennie plunged into an explanation, feeling all the time that he was
making things worse for himself. Nobody is at his best in the matter
of explanations if a lady whom he knows to be possessed of a firm
belief in the incurable weakness of his intellect is looking fixedly
at him during the recital. A prolonged conversation with Lady Blunt
always made him feel exactly as if he were being tied into knots.

"All this," said Sir Thomas, as his nephew paused for breath, "is
very, very characteristic of our dear Spennie."

Our dear Spennie broke into a perspiration.

"However," continued Sir Thomas, "there's room for either you or----"

"Pitt," said Jimmy. "P--i double t."

Sir Thomas bowed.

"In front with the chauffeur, if you care to take the seat."