THE BROKERS IN 



One in particular was the establishing of depots which 

 should send luncheons and teas out to offices. It took 

 on, but I sold out. I was dining with the late Claud 

 Nugent one night at his boarding house near Baker 

 Street. It seemed comfortable, so I went to live there 

 for a bit. The people who owned it wanted to leave, 

 so one morning at breakfast, acting on an impulse, I 

 offered to take it over at a tenner a week. It was 

 accepted and I found myself adding to responsibilities 

 by running a private hotel. My family, who lived in 

 the country, thought I was mad. There was a lot 

 ; spent on the place by me, but having installed a 

 manageress I had to get " out " to do something else. 

 I started a theatrical paper, the Queue, which ran 

 for a while, but I lost on that what I was gaining on 

 ! the roundabouts of the hotel. The rent got behind 

 and I handed the show back after having the brokers 

 in on Christmas Eve : but I paid every bob — about 

 three hundred and seventy pounds. It was a pity to 

 give it up in one way, as there was a good connection, 

 but a place like that wants as much looking after as 

 any other business. Claud Nugent lived there all the 

 time, and we used to turn out some songs, my verses 

 welded to his music. He was a very amusing chap, 

 1 and loved his surroundings as there were always people 

 j to talk to and plenty of bottles in the house. He 

 j played the piano, improvised, and was very apt at 

 j impromptu verse. When I first knew him he was 

 secretary of the Lyric Club, and was in his element 

 then. At one time he and Eustace (" Scrobbie ") 

 i Ponsonby were inseparable ; they would sing duets 

 and write them together. By the way, I suppose the 

 majority know how " Scrobbie " came by his name : 

 it was through slipping into a very wet ditch at Eton, 

 and Scidbha — ^a ditch, in Latin — stuck to him ever 



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