dmit I'm in the wrong but there you
are. You see, it all comes of not wearing rings. If I did, I should have
remembered that a wire came from Jonah just before dinner--it's in my
dinner-jacket--saying he was coming up late to-night with Harry, and
that if the latter couldn't get in at the Club, he should bring him on
here. He had the decency to add 'Don't sit up.'"

Daphne and I exchanged glances of withering contempt.

"And where," said my sister, "is Harry going to sleep?"

Her husband settled himself contentedly.

"That," he said drowsily, "is what's worrying me."

"Outrageous," said Daphne. Then she turned to me. "It's too late to do
anything now. Will you go down and explain? Perhaps he can manage in the
library. Unless Jonah likes to give up his bed."

"I'll do what I can," I said, taking a cigarette from the box by her
side.

"Oh, and do ask if it's true about Evelyn."

"Right oh. I'll tell you as I come back."

"I forbid you," murmured her husband, "to re-enter this room."

I kissed my sister, lobbed a novel on to my brother-in-law's back, and
withdrew before he had time to retaliate. Then I stepped barefoot
downstairs, to perform my mission.

With the collapse of the excitement, Nobby's suspicion shrank into
curiosity, his muscles relaxed, and he stopped quivering. So infectious
a thing is perturbation.

The door of the library was ajar, and the thin strip of light which
issued was enough to guide me across the hall. The parquet was cold to
the touch, and I began to regret that I had not returned for my
slippers.

As I pushed the door open--

"I say, Jonah," I said, "that fool Berry----"

It was with something of a shock that I found myself looking directly
along the barrel of a .45 automatic pistol, which a stout gentleman,
wearing a green mask, white kid gloves, and immaculate evening-dress,
was pointing immediately at my nose.

"There now," he purred. "I was going to say, 'Hands up.' Just like that.
'Hands up.' It's so romantic. But I hadn't expected the dog. Suppose you
put your right hand up."

I shook my head.

"I want that for my cigarette," I said.

For a moment we stood looking at one another. Then my fat _vis-a-vis_
began to shake with laughter.

"You know," he gurgled, "this is most irregular. It's enough to make
Jack Sheppard turn in his grave. It is really. However.... As an
inveterate smoker, I feel for you. So we'll have a compromise." He
nodded towards an armchair whic