"Why, what would you do to try and get it taken up and talked about?"
Then it was my turn, and I let him have it.
"You must get the Press and the Government to work together," I said
rapidly, "and particularly in connection with the new Government Service
of Camion's Fettle-Trains and Cursory Circuits."
He nodded like one who thoroughly understands and desires to hear more.
"Speed," I added nonchalantly, "and the measure of it are of course
essentials in their case."
He nodded again.
"And they have never really settled the problem ... especially about
Fettle-Trains."
"No," said he ponderously, "so I understand."
"Well now," I went on, full of the chase, "you will naturally ask me who
are you to go to?" I scratched my nose. "You know the Fusionary Office,
as we call it? It is really, of course, a part of the Stannaries. But
the Chief Permanent Secretary likes to have it called the Fusionary
Office; it's his vanity."
"Yes," said he eagerly, "yes, go on!"
"They always have the same hours," I said, "four to eleven."
"Four to _what_?" he asked, looking up.
"To eleven," I repeated sharply; "but you'd much better call round about
three."
He looked bewildered.
"Don't interrupt," I said, seeing him open his lips, "or I shall lose
the thread. It's rather complicated. You call at three by the little
door in Whitehall on the Embankment side towards the Horse Guards
looking south, and _don't_ ring the bell.
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