“I was rude, wasn’t I?” he admitted. “That’s an infirmity of mine, like an epileptic fit——”
“Oh, your friend De Lancey has fits, too. You are a pair, all right.”
“I give up,” he said. “De Lancey is no friend of mine. Please explain.”
“You don’t know a John De Lancey?”
“Never heard of him.”
“Well, he’s up at the Big House this minute. You may not know him, but he knows you. To be sure he got twisted in your name—said it was Mr. Dick—until Jerry foolishly gave you away. Then he was sure it was Mr. Richard. He said he had forgotten for the moment what name you had agreed to travel on. You two had better get together and rehearse. You’re both bad actors. I’ll give you that much help, although I’m warnin’ you,” she smiled broadly as she spoke, “that I’m a lady detective in disguise. So look out!”
Walter looked on wisely as they talked. At first he thought he would tell Phœbe what he knew about assumed names; but decided later that she would find it out soon enough. It was not his affair. He had his boat, and he would go off and borrow old sails somewhere and try her out. But before he went he exacted from Phœbe the approval of his latest achievement.
“You said to get one,” he repeated, “an’ I got one.”
“Good boy!” she nodded to him cheerily. “I knew you’d do it.”
That was enough to start him off to the tender in great spirits.