"Yes, sah, Colonel!"
The military-looking detective resumed his pacing of the room, his hands behind his back clasping and unclasping nervously.
"Shag!" he suddenly called.
"Yes, sah, Colonel."
"Is it much of a mystery—I mean—er—anything but the usual blood and thunder stuff?"
"Why, Colonel," began the black man eagerly, "it's de beatenist mystery dat ever was—all 'bout a murdered jewelry lady, what's got her haid busted in with a big gold statue, an' a gold knife stab in her side, an' a watch shut up tight in her hand, tickin' an' tickin' an' tickin', laik it was her heart beatin', an' her cousin done find her in a pool of blood on de floor, an' de clocks all stopped, an' a rich young spendthrift comes in an' claims de dagger, an' de detectives—"
"Shag!" fairly shouted his master.
"Yes, sah, Colonel!"
"Out of the room this instant, and don't you dare come back until I send for you!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel."