I hustled right over to the hotel, and there, in the office, sat Jiggins and Collins, looking pretty glum, I can tell you. I went straight up to them.
“Mr. Macmillan wants to know if you’ll please come up to his office,” says I.
Jiggins began to sing his funny little tune. “Tum-a-diddle, dum-a-diddle, dum-a-diddle-dee,” and so on. Then he smiled sort of sickly.
“Well, Binney,” says he, “you beat, after all, didn’t you?”
“Mark Tidd comes pretty close to beatin’ every time,” I says.
“Yes,” says Jiggins, “I expect he does. Looks like he would. Wonderful boy. Knew he was wonderful all the time. Liked him. Still like him. Always will like him. No hard feelings. Not a one. Don’t hold a thing up against him.”
“That’s good,” says I, “because Mark and I don’t hold no grudge against you and Mr. Collins. You wasn’t doin’ right, but maybe that wasn’t your fault. Maybe you wasn’t taught jest proper. You’re the pleasantest villains I ever knew.”
At that both Collins and Jiggins laughed. “First time I ever thought of myself as a villain,” says Collins.
“Who’s Mr. Macmillan?” says Jiggins.
“He’s our lawyer.”