at the hotel last night."

The speaker glared at them suspiciously.

The chivalry of Spain asserted itself. The Duke stepped forward with
spirit, gripping the cane as though it were a cavalry saber.

"Orders--orders--what orders? To break into this lady's private cabin?
What headquarters?"

"It seems to me, bo, that you're in a lady's private cabin yourself.
I'm from police headquarters, bo!"

"Do you know whom you are addressing, fellow?"

"Say, nix on this _fellow_ stuff. That'll be about all from you."

Maria Theresa interceded with her winsome grace and irresistible smile.

"Yes, Carlos, let me attend to the matter. Won't you come into the
cabin, gentlemen, and be seated?"

The two detectives beamed, their bosoms heaved with pride at this
unexpected recognition of their importance. They entered, waving away
the steward and closing the cabin door behind them.

"We're just been discussing that mystery, Inspector!" observed Jarvis,
coming nearer and taking his seat upon the trunk once more. This
irritated the Duke, who added: "You are, I take it, one of the 'gum
shoes'?"

Jarvis turned toward Maria Theresa, disregarding all properties due to
the presence of the aristocracy, and yielded to that nervous twitching
of the left eye which expresses such manifold meaning with such minimum
of sound!

The detective whirled about, from his scrutiny of the cabin, walking
toward the Duke. He fairly howled in the surprised nobleman's face:

"Gum shoe! Say, are you trying to kid me?"

The Duke replied with asperity:

"Well, sir. You are speaking rather loudly. I presume that I have
offended you?"

"You presume! I should say you do. That's a hot one. Who are you,
anyway?"

"I am Carlos, Hernando y Calderos, Duke of Alva. I have other titles,
but they would hardly interest you."

The detective glared at him malevolently, mimicking the crisp
enunciation of the nobleman.

"But you interest me, sweetie. Dook of Alver--and then some, eh? Ain't
that just too cutey-cutey for any use? Say, I'm used to these dooks and
counts--I've been around Peacock Alley at the Waldorf too long not to
know 'em by their checkered pants and them canes! Say, Dook! If you was
the Archbishop of Canterbury I'd run yer in and take yer ashore, if yer
give me any more of yer lip."

Jarvis, bumping his heels against the trunk, smiled with diabolical
enjoyment in the face of his Excellency!

IX

CHECKMATE THE FIRST

The detecti