Their economics are
sounder than their sociology, which is of the crudest. They specialize
in jewellery--useless, barbaric and generally vulgar survivals--which
they extract from shop and safe, and sell in Amsterdam, distributing
the proceeds to various deserving charitable agencies. In this
particular crowded hour of life the leader of the group, a fanatical
prig with hypnotic eyes, abducts the beautiful _Lady Fenton_, with
ten thousand pounds' worth of stuff upon her, from one of the least
ambitious of Soho restaurants.
How came she there, thus bedizened? Well, her husband, eccentric peer
with a priceless collection of snuffboxes and a chronic deficiency of
humour, had arranged the little dinner to effect a reconciliation,
away from the prying eyes of their set. It was not a success. She felt
that she sparkled too much, was piqued, and dismissed her lord. Enter
the hypnotic prig, who adroitly conveys her to his headquarters,
preaches to her and converts her to the point of surrendering her
jewels without a pang, and offering to assist in the lifting of the
snuffboxes. I can't say more without endangering the effect of Captain
COKE'S ingenious shifts and spoofs.
The author seemed to me to tempt Providence by placing his perfervid
philanthropist and his serious doctrines against a background of
burlesque.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48