"They are gone," repeated Dick, gleefully, "all of them except Peter Tortue."
"What's that?" I cried, sitting up in the bed.
"All of them except Peter Tortue."
"To be sure," said I, scratching my head.
Now what in the world had Peter Tortue remained behind for? For no harm, that was evident, since I owed my life to his good offices last night. I was to remember that it was he who saved me. I was, then, to make some return. But what return?
I threw my pillow at Parmiter's head.
"Deuce take you, Dicky! My bed was not such a plaguey restful place before that it needed you to rumple it further. Well, since I mayn't sleep late i' the morning like a gentleman, I'll get up."
I tried to put together some sort of plausible explanation which would serve for Helen Mayle while I was dressing. But I could not hit upon one, and besides Parmiter made such a to-do over brushing my clothes this morning that that alone was enough to drive all reasoning out of one's head.
"Dick," said I as he handed me my coat, "you have had, if my memory serves me, some experience of womenfolk."
Dick nodded his head in a mournful fashion.