THE SILVER SPOON	497
" I wonder," said Michael, " that you haven't had the
Press down."
" Have—had 'em yesterday ; three by different trains ;
very polite young men ; but I could see they couldn't make
head or tail of the old creature—too far gone, eh ? "
At this moment the door was opened, and the puckered
man came in, followed by a maid and three cats. They
put a tray on Sir James' knees and another on a small
table before Michael. On each tray was a partridge with
chipped potatoes, spinach and bread sauce. The puckered
man filled Sir James' glass with barley-water, Michael's
with claret, and retired. The three cats, all tortoise-shells,
began rubbing themselves against Sir James5 trousers,
purring loudly.
" Don't mind cats, I hope ?    No fish to-day, pussies ! "
Michael was hungry and finished his bird. Sir James
gave most of his to the cats. They were then served with
fruit salad, cheese, coffee and cigars, and everything
removed except the cats, who lay replete before the fire,
curled up in a triangle.
Michael gazed througli the smoke of two cigars at the
fount and origin, eager, but in doubt whether it would
stand pumping—it seemed so very old ! Well! anyway,
he must have a shot!
" You know Blythe, sir, of ' The Outpost ? ' He's your
great supporter ; I'm only a mouthpiece."
" Know his paper—best of the weeklies ; but too clever
by half."
t£ Now that I've got the chance," said Michael, " would
you mind if I asked you one or two questions ? "
Sir James Foggart looked at the lighted end of his cigar.
" Fire ahead."
" Well, sir, can England really stand apart from
Europe ? "