Sissie Montague," I broke in casually, taking it down and examining
it. "WITH an autograph, too. 'Reggie, from Sissie.' You are a friend of
hers?"

"A friend of hers? I'll trouble you. She IS a clinker, Sissie is! You
should see that girl smoke. I give you my word of honour, Cumberledge,
she can consume cigarettes against any fellow I know in London. Hang it
all, a girl like that, you know--well, one can't help admiring her! Ever
seen her?"

"Oh, yes; I know her. I called on her, in fact, night before last, at
Scarborough."

He whistled a moment, then broke into an imbecile laugh. "My gum," he
cried; "this IS a start, this is! You don't mean to tell me YOU are the
other Johnnie."

"What other Johnnie?" I asked, feeling we were getting near it.

He leaned back and laughed again. "Well, you know that girl Sissie,
she's a clever one, she is," he went on after a minute, staring at me.
"She's a regular clinker! Got two strings to her bow; that's where the
trouble comes in. Me and another fellow. She likes me for love and the
other fellow for money. Now, don't you come and tell me that YOU are the
other fellow."

"I have certainly never aspired to the young lady's hand," I answered,
cautiously. "But don't you know your rival's name, then?"

"That's Sissie's blooming cleverness. She's a caulker, Sissie is; you
don't take a rise out of Sissie in a hurry. She knows that if I knew who
the other bloke was, I'd blow upon her little game to him and put him
off her. And I WOULD, s'ep me taters; for I'm nuts on that girl. I tell
you, Cumberledge, she IS a clinker!"

"You seem to me admirably adapted for one another," I answered,
truthfully. I had not the slightest compunction in handing Reggie
Nettlecraft over to Sissie, nor in handing Sissie over to Reggie
Nettlecraft.

"Adapted for one another? That's just it. There, you hit the right nail
plump on the cocoanut, Cumberground! But Sissie's an artful one, she is.
She's playing for the other Johnnie. He's got the dibs, you know; and
Sissie wants the dibs even more than she wants yours truly."

"Got what?" I inquired, not quite catching the phrase.

"The dibs, old man; the chink; the oof; the ready rhino. He rolls in
it, she says. I can't find out the chap's name, but I know his Guv'nor's
something or other in the millionaire trade somewhere across in
America."

"She writes to you, I think?"

"That's so; every blooming day; but how the dummy did you come to know
it?"