“See here,” he said; “how’s J-Jimmy going to prove he’s done it?”

“Personally, I can take his word,” said Mifflin.

“That be h-hanged for a tale. Wha-what’s to prevent him saying he’s done it, whether he has or not?”

The Strollers looked uncomfortable. However, it was Jimmy’s affair.

“Why, you’d get your dinner in any case,” said Jimmy. “A dinner from any host would smell as sweet.”

Willett persisted with muddled obstinacy.

“Thash—thash not point. It’s principle of thin. Have thish thing square and ’bove-board, I say. Thash what I say.”

“And very creditable to you being able to say it,” said Jimmy cordially. “See if you can manage ‘Truly rural.’”

“What I say is this. Jimmy’s a fakir. And what I say is, what’s prevent him saying he’s done it when hasn’t done it?”

“That’ll be all right,” said Jimmy. “I’m going to bury a brass tube with the Stars and Stripes in it under the carpet.”

“Thash quite shfactory,” said Willett, with dignity.

“Or, a better idea,” said Jimmy, “I’ll carve a big J on the inside of the front door. Well, I’m off home. Anybody coming my way?”

“Yes,” said Mifflin. “We’ll walk. First nights always make me as jumpy as a cat. If I don’t walk my legs off I shan’t get to sleep to-night at all.”

“If you think I’m going to help you walk your legs off, my lad, you’re mistaken. I propose to stroll gently home and go to bed.”

“Every little helps,” said Mifflin. “Come along.”

“You want to keep an eye on that man Jimmy, Arthur,” said Sutton. “He’d sand-bag you and lift your watch as soon as look at you. I believe he’s Arsène Lupin in disguise.”

★ 2 ★ The New Pyramus and Thisbe

★ 2 ★

The two men turned up the street. They walked in silence. Arthur Mifflin was going over in his mind such outstanding events of the evening as he remembered—the nervousness, the relief of finding that he was gripping his audience, the growing conviction that he had made good—while Jimmy 

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