“My dear Miss Levey,” Major Jones answered, whispering in her ear, “more unlikely things have happened than that I should beg your acceptance of this little trifle.”
“Sooner or later,” Peter Ruff said genially, “I should like to have a little conversation with you, Major. I fancy that we ought to be able to find plenty of subjects of common interest.”
“Delighted, I’m sure!” the latter answered, utterly unsuspicious. “Shall we go into the smoking-room now, or would you rather play a rubber first?”
“If it is all the same to you,” Peter Ruff said, “I think we will have a cigar first. There will be plenty of time for bridge afterwards.”
“May I offer you a cigar, sir?” Major Jones inquired, passing across a well-filled case.
Peter Ruff sighed.
“I am afraid, Major,” he said, “that there is scarcely time. You see, I have a warrant in my pocket for your arrest, and I am afraid that by the time we got to the station—”
Major Jones leaned forward in his chair. He gripped the sides tightly with both hands. His eyes seemed to be protruding from his head.
“For my what?” he exclaimed, in a tone of horror.
“For your arrest,” Peter Ruff explained calmly. “Surely you must have been expecting it! During all these years you must have grown used to expecting it at every moment!”