“Hugo,” I said, “I’ve known some bounders in my time, but not one who could have done that.”
We sat down and began discussing the Disestablishment of the Welsh Church, when suddenly the area-gate was rattled and a stern voice outside said “Police.”
Instantly, Hugo concealed as much of himself as he could under the kitchen table. There was no help for it. I had to let the policeman in, or he would have roused the household.
“I’m just going to have a look in your kitchen,” he said.
“No use,” I replied. “The rabbit-pie was finished yesterday.”
“Saucy puss, ain’t you?” he said, as he entered.
“Well, you might be a sport and tell a girl what you’re after.”
“Cabman, driving past here a few minutes ago, saw a man jump the area-railings and make a burglarious entry by the kitchen window.”
“Is that all?” I said. “A man did enter that way a few minutes ago, but it was not a burglar. It was Master Edward, Mrs. Pettifer’s eldest son. He’d lost his latch-key—he’s always doing it—and that’s how it happened. He went straight upstairs to bed, or he’d confirm what I say.”