"Quite true,--but I should be telling a falsehood if I said anything of the sort." "Knowing you to be an absolutely truthful and reliable man, Mr. Cricklewick," she said mendaciously, "they would not even dream of questioning your veracity. They do not believe you capable of telling a falsehood. Can't you see how splendidly it would all work out?" Mr. Cricklewick couldn't see, and said so. "Besides," he went on, "suppose that it should get to the ears of the Ambassador." "In that event, you could run over to Washington and tell him in private just who Thomas Trotter is, and then everything would be quite all right. You see," she went on earnestly, "all you have to do is to drop a few words for the benefit of young Mr. Smith-Parvis. He looks upon you as one of the most powerful and influential men in the city, and he wouldn't have you discover that he is in anyway connected with such a vile, underhanded--" "How am I to lead up to the subject of chauffeurs?" broke in Mr. Cricklewick weakly. "I can hardly begin talking about chauffeurs--er--out of a clear sky, you might say." "Don't begin by talking about chauffeurs," she counselled. "Lead up to the issue by speaking of the friendly relations that exist between England and America, and proceed with the hope that nothing may ever transpire to sever the bond of blood--and so on. You know what I mean. It is quite simple. And then look a little serious and distressed,--that ought to be easy, Mr. Cricklewick. You must see how naturally it all leads up to the unfortunate affair of your young countryman, whom you are bound to defend,--and _we_ are bound to defend,--no matter what the consequences may be." Two minutes later she arose triumphant, and put on her stole. Her eyes were sparkling. "I knew you couldn't stand by and see this outrageous thing done to Eric Temple. Thank you. I--goodness gracious, I quite forgot a most important thing. In the event that our little scheme does not have the desired result, and they persist in persecuting him, we must have something to fall back upon. I know McFaddan very slightly. (She did not speak of the ex-footman as Mr. McFaddan, nor did Cricklewick take account of the omission). He is, I am informed, one of the most influential men in New York,--one of the political bosses, Mr. Smith-Parvis says. He says he is a most unprincipled person. Well, don't you see, he is just the sort of person to fall back upon if all honest measures fail?" Mr. Cricklewick rather blankly murmured something about "honest measures," and then mopped his brow. Miss Emsdale's enthusiasm, while acutely ingenuous, had him "sweating blood," as he afterwards put it during a calm and lucid period of retrospection. "I--I assure you I have no influence with McFaddan," he began, looking at his handkerchief,--and being relieved, no doubt, to find no crimson stains,--applied it to his neck with some confidence and vigour. "In fact, we differ vastly in--"