There's only one man we can do it with, and you know it."
Peter rose, and dropped his cigar-stump into the ash-receiver. "I don't
see anything else," he said, gloomily. "Do any of you?"
A moment's silence, and then Number One said: "No."
"Well," said Peter, "I'll take the nomination if necessary, but keep it
back for a time, till we see if something better can't be hit upon."
"No danger," said Number One, holding out his hand, gleefully.
"There's more ways of killing a pig than choking it with butter," said
Number Three, laughing and doing the same.
"It's a pity Costell isn't here," added the previous questioner. "After
you're not yielding to him, he'd never believe we had forced you to take
it."
And that was what actually took place at that very-much-talked-about
dinner.
Peter went downstairs with a very serious look on his face. At the door,
the keeper of it said: "There are six reporters in the strangers' room,
Mr. Stirling, who wish to see you."
A man who had just come in said: "I'm sorry for you, Peter.
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