David Lloyd George was dining at the Savoy. His white Welsh mustache trembled slightly as he masticated a chop. In his pocket was an ordinary overcoat check; but the attendant, awed, had hung the coat in a closet distinct from the common coatroom. . . .
Minutes passed. Dessert was passing in under the white mustache. Then suddenly the doorman of the Savoy snapped to attention as Mr. Lloyd George's coat passed over the threshold, a hat jammed down over the collar, two shabby trouser legs oscillating beneath. . . .
"Stop thief!" cried...
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