That would teach 'em.

Yes, Furlong, you'll live to see it that the whole working-class will one day rise against the tyranny of the upper classes, and society will be overwhelmed." But if Mr.Fyshe had realized that at that moment, in the kitchen of the Mausoleum Club, in those sacred precincts themselves, there was a walking delegate of the Waiters' International Union leaning against a sideboard, with his bowler hat over one corner of his eye, and talking to a little group of the Chinese philosophers, he would have known that perhaps the social catastrophe was a little nearer than even he suspected.
* * * * * "Are you inviting anyone else tonight ?" asked Mr.Furlong.
"I should have liked to ask your father," said Mr.Fyshe, "but unfortunately he is out of town." What Mr.Fyshe really meant was, "I am extremely glad not to have to ask your father, whom I would not introduce to the Duke on any account." Indeed, Mr.Furlong, senior, the father of the rector of St.Asaph's, who was President of the New Amalgamated Hymnal Corporation, and Director of the Hosanna Pipe and Steam Organ, Limited, was entirely the wrong man for Mr.Fyshe's present purpose.

In fact, he was reputed to be as smart a man as ever sold a Bible.

At this moment he was out of town, busied in New York with the preparation of the plates of his new Hindu Testament (copyright); but had he learned that a duke with several millions to invest was about to visit the city, he would not have left it for the whole of Hindustan.
"I suppose you are asking Mr.Boulder," said the rector.
"No," answered Mr.Fyshe very decidedly, dismissing the name absolutely.
Indeed, there was even better reason not to introduce Mr.Boulder to the Duke.

Mr.Fyshe had made that sort of mistake once, and never intended to make it again.