And if I don't know the
correct answer I'll find myself meditating in Portland or Pentonville.
That's what I'm exposing myself to by obliging corrupt an' unscrupulous
friends," continued Percival bitterly.
"Hang it!" expostulated Frederick, "the potty little bottle of scent I'm
asking you to deliver to my cousin Julia won't get you more than a
seven-days' stretch. And you've got _fourteen_ days' leave."
"Well, I won't grumble about that, although I'd arranged my programme
differently. But what about the box of Flor Fantomas I'm taking for the
Major, and the bottle of whisky with which the skipper has entrusted me for
the purpose of propitiating his projected father-in-law, to say nothing of
the piece of Brussels lace which Binnie says is for his aunt. Their
combined weight will just about earn me a lifer. I can see me wiring the
War Office for an extension of leave on urgent business grounds--nature of
business, to enable applicant to complete term of penal servitude."
"Don't, Percival, old crumpet," murmured Frederick, visibly affected; "the
thought of you languishing in a felon's cell, without cigarettes, gives me
a pain in my heart.
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