I chopped it myself.
Have another try. You'll believe it in time if you persevere. It's the
first step that counts, you know. I used to be able to say that in
French, but--"
He only got so far because the old gentleman had been inarticulate with
rage.
"Fetch the manager, and don't dare utter another word, confound you!"
he shouted.
A few moments later our friend Mr. Gunthorpe entered. His eyes were
bright, and a satisfied smile rested on his lips.
"Good evening, sir," he began affably. "I believe you sent for me. I
hope everything is to your taste?"
"Everything is nothing of the sort, sir!" retorted the old gentleman.
"You have attempted a gross fraud upon us, sir. I find on the menu,
chicken, and it is nothing more nor less than chopped beef. And
'peptonized'--peptonized be hanged, sir! It's no more peptonized than
my hat!"
"Well, sir, as for your hat I can say nothing, but--"
"None of your insolence, sir. I insist on having this--filth taken away
and something suitable put before us. My wife has possessed a duodenal
ulcer for fourteen years come September, and--"
"Be hanged to your duodenal ulcer! As this isn't its birthday, why
should it have a blinking banquet.
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