"Why, I hadn't got the summons then," said Alexander. "Mr. Asher gave it to me the day before New Year. I said I was going into the country to Rickwell, for Mr. Wilson asked me what I was making myself smart for. He said he'd take the summons, and that I could go to the Hippodrome with Jim Tyler."
"Which you did on your employer's money. You are a smart lad, Alexander. What did your mother say?"
"Mother was out when I came home with the summons, and after Mr. Wilson said he'd take it I didn't say anything to her."
"Then she thought that on the day before the New Year you were at the office as usual?"
"Yes," snuffled Master Benker, "she did. Oh, Lor'!" as the cab stopped before a tidy house in a quiet street, "here we are."
"And there is your mother," said the detective cheerfully, as a severe face appeared at the white-curtained window.
Alexander wept afresh as Steel paid the cabman, and positively howled when the door opened and his mother—a lean woman in a black dress, with a widow's cap—appeared. He would have run away but that Steel again had a hand on his collar.
"Alexander," cried his mother harshly, "what have you been doing?"
"Nothing very dreadful, ma'am," interposed Steel. "It will be all right. Let me in, and I'll speak for my young friend."
"And who may you be, sir?" demanded Mrs. Benker, bristling.