Paul turned again to the standing man and hissed, "Kittenpitches!"

"Waiter!"

Fred was still standing there--still fairly impassive. He had the wit

to say, "Yes, sir?"

"This person is drunk!"

Paul came to his feet then--and towered over the Englishman. He bent

close. "Pomadiant nocrot," he said harshly. "Cantapunce. Cabulate

geepross. Dreek!"

The Englishman opened his mouth and emitted a thin, high, frightened

squeak.