A wooden expression crept into Mr. Lugg’s face.
“No. I don’t go there any more. I took exception to some of the members. Very low type of person, they were. If you want to know, I go to a very quiet, respectable little place in a mews up Mayfair way. There are several nice people there in me own line of business.”
“Gentlemen’s gentlemen, I suppose?” said Mr. Campion sarcastically.
“Exactly,” agreed Mr. Lugg belligerently. “And why not? A nice superior class of person I meet and I hear all the gossip.”
“I’m disgusted with you.” Campion sounded genuine. “You make me sick. I’ve a good mind to sack you.”
“You try,” said Mr. Lugg, with a return of his old fire. “I’d like to know where you’d be—as helpless as a babe unborn. I’ve trained you not to be able to do without me. You drop the case
