e, too.

Mr. Gordon comes to my bunk in the mornin', very mysterious. "Shorty,"
says he, "we're in. I've got to go up to the State Department for an
hour or so, and while I'm gone I'd like you to keep an eye on Sir Peter.
If he takes a notion to wander off, you persuade him to stay until I get
back."

"What you say goes," says I.

I shoved up the shade and sees that they'd put the Adeline down at the
end of the train-shed. About all I could see of Washington was the top
of old George's headstone stickin' up over a freight-car. I fixed myself
up and had breakfast, just as if I was in a boardin'-house, and then
sits around waitin' for Sir Peter. He an' Danvers shows up after a
while, and the old gent calls for tea and toast and jam. Then I knows
he's farther off his base than ever. Think of truck like that for
breakfast! But he gets away with it, and then says to Danvers:

"Time we were off for the city, my man."

I got a glimpse of trouble ahead, right there; for that chump of a
Danvers never made a move when I gives him the wink. All he could get
into that peanut head of his at one time was to collect those leather
bags and get ready to trot around wherever that long-legged old lunatic
led the way.

"They've changed the time on that train of yours, Sir Pete," says I.
"She don't come along until ten-twenty-six now, spring schedule," and I
winks an eye loose at Danvers.

"'Pon my word!" says Sir Peter, "you here yet? Danvers, show this person
to the gates."

"Yes, sir," says Danvers. He comes up to me an' whispers, kind of ugly:
"I sye now, you'll 'ave to stop chaffin' Sir Peter. I won't 'ave it!"

"Help!" says I. "There's a rat after me."

"Hi'll bash yer bloomin' nose in!" says he, gettin' pink behind the
ears.

"Hi'll write to the bloomin' pypers habout it if you do," says I.

I was wishin' that would fetch him, and it did. He comes at me wide
open, with a guard like a soft-shell crab. I slips down the state-room
passage, out of sight of Sir Peter, catches Danvers by the scruff,
chucks him into a berth, and ties him up with the sheets, as careful as
if he was to go by express.

"Now make all the holler you want," says I. "It won't disturb us none,"
and I shut the door.

But Sir Peter was a different proposition. I didn't want to rough-house
him. He was too ancient; and anyway, I kind of liked the old chap's
looks. He'd forgot all about Danvers, and was makin' figures on an
envelope when I got back. I