“Beg pardon, sir,” said I discreetly to Cousin Egbert, “but if you could let me have a bit of change, a half-crown or so——” To my surprise he regarded me coldly and shook his head emphatically in the negative.
“Not me,” he said; “I’ve been had too often. You’re a good smooth talker and you may be all right, but I can’t take a chance at my time of life.”
“What’s he want now?” asked the other.
“The old story,” said Cousin Egbert: “come off and left his purse on the hatrack or out in the woodshed some place.” This was the height of absurdity, for I had said nothing of the sort.
“I was looking for something like that,” said the other “I never make a mistake in faces. You got a watch there haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and laid on the table my silver English half-hunter with Albert. They both fell to examining this with interest, and presently the Tuttle person spoke up excitedly:
“Well, darn my skin if he ain’t got a genuine double Gazottz. How did you come by this, my man?” he demanded sharply.
“It came from my brother-in-law, sir,” I explained, “six years ago as security for a trifling loan.”
“He sounds honest enough,” said the Tuttle person to Cousin Egbert.
“Yes, but maybe it ain’t a regular double Gazottz,” said the latter. “The market is flooded with imitations.”