“Four gangs,” George plunged along. “Gang A, gang B, gang C, gang D. Gang A breaks into the house and steals the cat. Gang B finds it gone and tracks down gang C.”
“Tracks gang A, surely,” panted Mr. Brunger. “Gang A had the cat.”
“Gang B didn't know that. I tell you this is a devil of a complicated affair. Gang B tracks down gang C and finds gang D. They join. Call 'em gang B-D. Gang A loses the cat and gang C finds it. Gang C sells it to gang B-D, which is run by an American, as I said.”
“Did you?” gasped Mr. Brunger without looking up.
“Certainly. Gang B-D hands it over to gang A by mistake, and gang A makes off with it. Gang C, very furious because it is gang A's great rival, starts in pursuit and gets it back again. Then gang B-D demands it, but gang A refuses to give it up.”
“Gang C!” Mr. Brunger panted. “Gang C had got it from gang A.”
“Yes, but gang A got it back again. Gang B-D—Look here,” George broke off, “that's perfectly clear about the gangs, isn't it?”
“Perfectly,” said Mr. Brunger, feeling that his reputation was gone unless he said so. “Wants a little studying, that's all. Most extraordinary story I ever heard of.”
“I'm dashed if I understand a word of it,” Bill put in. “Who are these gangs?”
George rose: “Bill, old man, I'll explain that another time. The fact is, we're wasting time by sitting here. I was very near the end when you two arrived. The cat is here—quite near here.”