"Oh, glad to see you, Nichols," he said more cheerfully. "A quiet night, I understand."
"Yes," laughed Nichols, "except for the man who got through the guards and smoked a cigarette on your portico."
"What!" gasped McGuire.
"Don't be alarmed, sir. It was only myself. I wanted to show Shad Wells the defects of his police system."
"Oh! Ah! Ha, ha, yes, of course. Very good. And you weren't shot at?"
"Oh, no, sir—though I'd given them leave to pot me if they could. But I think you're adequately protected now."
"Good," said McGuire. "Have a cigar. I'm glad you've come. I wanted to talk to you."
And when they had lighted their cigars, "It's about this very guard. I—I'm afraid you'll have to keep your men under cover at least in the daytime."
"Under cover?"
"Well, you see," went on McGuire in some hesitation, "my daughter (he called it darter) Peggy is motoring down from New York to-day. I don't want her, but she's coming. I couldn't stop her. She doesn't know anything about this—er—this guarding the house. And I don't want her to know. She mustn't know. She'd ask questions. I don't want questions asked. I'll get her away as soon as I can, but she mustn't be put into any danger."