"I quite understand, Mr. Dene," said Colonel Walton, with that imperturbable good-humour that was the envy of his friends. "You are rather valuable to us, you see, and if we err on the side of over-caution——" He paused.
"Sure," cried John Dene, thawing under the influence of Colonel Walton's personality, then after a pause he added. "See here, your boys seem to have a notion that I'm particular green goods. You just let one of 'em try and corral me one of these nights, and when you've explained things to the widow, you can just blow in here and tell me how she took it."
"It's the insidious rather than the overt act," began Colonel Walton.
"The what?" John Dene looked at him with a puzzled expression.
Instead of replying Colonel Walton drew from his right-hand pocket something in a paper bag, such as is used by confectioners. This he placed upon the table. He then extracted from his other pocket a small package rolled in newspaper, which he laid beside the paper bag.
John Dene stared at him as if not quite sure of his sanity.
"Perhaps you will open those packets."
With his eyes still on his visitor John Dene picked up the paper bag and, turning it upside down, shook out upon the table a brown and white guinea-pig—dead. Dorothy drew back with a little cry.
"This some of your funny work?" demanded John Dene angrily.
"There's still the other parcel," said Colonel Walton, his eyes upon the small roll done up in newspaper.