His lordship tapped uneasily at the base of Mr. Thacker's desk with his stick.
"If you will pardon me—I'd rather not," he said.
"Oh, very well," sighed Mr. Thacker.
"How about Owen Jephson?" asked Mr. Minot suddenly.
Overjoyed, Mr. Thacker started up.
"By gad—I forgot about Jephson. Sails at one o'clock, doesn't he?" He turned to Lord Harrowby. "The very man—and in New York, too. Jephson would insure T. Roosevelt against another cup of coffee."
"Am I to understand," asked Harrowby, "that Jephson is the man for me to see?"
"Exactly," beamed Mr. Thacker. "I'll have him here in fifteen minutes. Richard, will you please call up his hotel?" And as Mr. Minot reached for the telephone, Mr. Thacker added pleadingly: "Of course, I don't know the nature of your proposition—"
"No," agreed Lord Harrowby politely.
Discouraged, Mr. Thacker gave up.
"However, Jephson seems to have a gambling
