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o this paragraph, which I read aloud: "Every puff of those rare cigars you sent me has but reminded me that my debt to you is still unpaid." I read thus far; then I read it again. But I could make nothing of it. "Cigars--cigars?" I exclaimed, puzzled. Then I forgot the letter as I stared at Jenkins. "And what's the matter with _you_?" I demanded. For I had caught him with his hand over his mouth, obviously trying to suppress a chuckle. He sobered instantly, but seemed embarrassed for a reply. "Oh, I say, you know!" I urged him. He started to speak, then pulled up. His breath went out in a sort of sigh. And he just stood there looking at me, and looking kind of scared. Fact! Perfectly irreproachable service for five years; and now here, dash it, showing emotion and that sort of thing, just like--well, like _people_, by Jove! Gad, I don't mind saying I was devilish put out! I screwed my glass rather severely and he made another go: "I hope, Mr. Lightnut, sir, you'll try to pardon me, sir, but I--Well, indeed, sir, the mistake wasn't mine; it was the dealer's fault, you know, sir." "Oh!" I stared, polished my glass and nodded. I even chirped up a smile, but I didn't utter a word. Dash it, what _was_ there to say? But you mustn't let _them_ know that, you know. So I just waited, and he squirmed a little and went on: "It was too late after he told me about the mistake; and I was--well, I was afraid to mention it to you, sir." "Mistake! What mistake?" He gulped; dashed if I didn't think he was going to choke. "I--I'm sure, sir, I wouldn't have had such a thing happen for--" I could stand it no longer. "Oh, I say! I haven't any idea what you're talking about!" Jenkins cleared his throat with an effort, his eyes rolling at me apologetically. When he spoke there was a tremble in his utterance, and it was rather husky: "Why, sir," he began in a low tone, "you told me to have your dealer ship this gentleman, this Mr. Mastermann, a dozen boxes of Paloma perfectos--your favorite brand, you know, sir--ninety dollars the hundred." He paused, his fingers resting tremblingly on the edge of the table. "I dare say," I yawned presently. "Well, what of it?" I was getting impatient. By Jove, he was making me downright nervous, don't you know! Besides, I was so devilish anxious to get on with Mastermann's letter. I wanted to find out, if possible, what it was the fellow had sent m
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