id Sir Thomas.

"Who told you?"

"Thief! Low thief!"

"Come, now," protested Jimmy. "Why low? Just because you don't know
me over here, why scorn me? How do you know I haven't got a big
American reputation? For all you can tell, I may be Boston Billie or
Sacramento Sam, or someone. Let us preserve the decencies of
debate."

"I had my suspicions of you. I had my suspicions from the first,
when I heard that my idiot of a nephew had made a casual friend in
London. So, this was what you were! A thief, who--"

"I don't mind, personally," interrupted Jimmy, "but I hope, if ever
you mix with cracksmen, you won't go calling them thieves. They are
frightfully sensitive. You see! There's a world of difference
between the two branches of the profession and a good deal of
snobbish caste-prejudice. Let us suppose that you were an
actor-manager. How would you enjoy being called a super? You see the idea,
don't you? You'd hurt their feelings. Now, an ordinary thief would
probably use violence in a case like this. But violence, except in
extreme cases--I hope this won't be one of them--is contrary, I
understand, to cracksman's etiquette. On the other hand, Sir Thomas,
candor compels me to add that I have you covered."

There was a pipe in the pocket of his coat. He thrust the stem
earnestly against the lining. Sir Thomas eyed the protuberance
apprehensively, and turned a little pale. Jimmy was scowling
ferociously. Arthur Mifflin's scowl in act three had been much
admired.

"My gun," said Jimmy, "is, as you see, in my pocket. I always shoot
from the pocket, in spite of the tailor's bills. The little fellow
is loaded and cocked. He's pointing straight at your diamond
solitaire. That fatal spot! No one has ever been hit in the diamond
solitaire, and survived. My finger is on the trigger. So, I should
recommend you not to touch that bell you are looking at. There are
other reasons why you shouldn't, but those I will go into
presently."

Sir Thomas's hand wavered.

"Do if you like, of course," said Jimmy, agreeably. "It's your own
house. But I shouldn't. I am a dead shot at a yard and a half. You
wouldn't believe the number of sitting haystacks I've picked off at
that distance. I just can't miss. On second thoughts, I sha'n't fire
to kill you. Let us be humane on this joyful occasion. I shall just
smash your knees. Painful, but not fatal."

He waggled the pipe suggestively. Sir Thomas blenched. His hand fell
to his side.