“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” laughed Jack, as he took the glass and poured the liquor in it, and pointedly added: “Addenda! It affords us much pleasure to apologize for our former charge of wilful dishonesty against the gentlemen above mentioned. Signed: John Thorpe, James Harris, committee.” And Jack drained the glass.
“He, he, he, he,” softly laughed Rutley. “Very proper, my boy; quite so!”
“It only needs the measly ‘yellow goods’ to make it practical,” suggested Jack.
“My dear, ahem, Mr. Secretary, don’t let that trifle worry you. The ‘yellow goods’ are coming as sure as day follows night.”
“I hope the day will not again plunge us into night,” laughed Jack.
“Oh, don’t put it that way,” testily rejoined Rutley. “Disagreeably suggestive, you know—damned bad taste.”
Rutley’s supersensitiveness, in their present situation, was greeted by Jack with a burst of suppressed laughter. “When Eve tempted and Adam bit, he took his medicine without a fit. Have another, Phil.”
Without accepting the bottle, and seemingly without heeding the remark, Rutley inquired, a bit seriously: “Is the dog on guard?”
“Yes,” replied Jack, standing stock still, with the bottle in one hand and the tumbler in the other. “Tied to a stick of driftwood on shore. No interlopers while Snooks is on watch. Why?” The question was asked rather soberly.
“I received a tip that you are shadowed and trouble may come before dawn. When it comes the little one must not be here.”