Barbed Nonsense

MR. PETRE--Hilaire Belloc (Illustrated by G. K. Chesterton)--McBride ($2.50). When the grey little man in the taxi ejaculated "Petrel" and hastily explained he was talking to himself, the cabbie smiled sympathetically. But the clerk at the Hotel Splendide knew better. He completed the name most deferentially--John K. Petre--without being told. And Mrs. Celia Cyril (whoever she was) seemed enchanted with John K. Petre (whoever he was). The two ex-chancellors agreed, the Old Cabinet Minister hemmed affably. So the little grey man guessed he was John K. Petre without doubt, evidently a U. S. millionaire and a devil of a fellow for secrecy and mystification. He kept his counsel, was enigmatically acquiescent with the broker chap. He made thousands in Touaregs (whatever they were), millions on the Paddenham Site (for some reason), millions more in Rotors (strange as it seemed).

Harley Street magnificos availed him naught. Not until he bumped into old Buff Thompson did it come back to him that he was grey little Peter Blagden, "Mr. Peter" to family servants and solicitors. When the real Petre (John Kosciuszko Petre, U.S.A.) spurred an action, all the King's legal horses and men balked valiantly and the episode ended happily for nearly every one.

Dedicated "to all poor gentlemen," here is Belloquacity far less irritating than usual. Donald O. Stewart and other funny men would find the conversations instructively preposterous. G. B. Shaw could pick up pointers in the whetting of satirical barbs.