“No? But, my dear sir, one of 'em must have the cat?”
George started to the necessities of the immediate situation; wondered what he had said; caught at Mr. Brunger's last word. “The cat? Another gang has got the cat.”
“What, three gangs!” the detective cried.
“Three gangs,” George affirmed.
“Two gangs you said at first,” Mr. Brunger sharply reminded him.
My miserable George dug his fingers into his hair. “I meant three—I'd forgotten the other.”
“Don't see how a man can forget a whole gang,” objected the detective. He stared at George; frowned; produced his note-book. “Let us have the facts, sir.”
As if drawn by the glare fixed upon him, George moved from the sofa to the table.
“Now, the facts,” Mr. Brunger repeated. “Let's get these gangs settled first.”
George took a chair. He had no plan. He plunged wildly. “Gang A, gang B, gang C, gang D—”