Dicky laughed joyously.
“Well, they did rather turn things upside down,” he chuckled. “Did they get anything?” And he fell to helping me zealously.
“Not that I can find out,” I replied. “Nothing of value, anyhow.”
“Not any papers, or anything of that sort?” asked Dicky anxiously.
“Dicky, my boy,” said I; “there are two kinds of fools. The other is the man who writes his business on a sheet of paper and forgets to burn it.”
Dicky grinned merrily.
“Gad, you're getting a turn for epigram! You'll be writing for the Argonaut, first we know.”
“Well, you'll allow me a shade of common sense, won't you?”
“I don't know,” said Dicky, considering the proposition doubtfully. “It might have been awkward if you had left anything lying about. But if you had real good sense you'd have had the guards here. What are you paying them for, anyhow?”
I saw difficulties in the way of explaining to Dicky why I had not ordered the guards on duty.