“I did, sir,” replied the detective in his usual quick way. “Be seated, please.”
They accepted the invitation and Welton continued:
“What I want to see you about is a private mattaw. For some time past there have been wobbowies of jewelry in some of our best society. These wobbowies always take place on the occasion of parties or balls.”
“Yes, sir,” said Old King Brady as he paused.
“We want you to catch the thief,” said Mr. Welton. “My—aw—mother has been wobbed of a lot of diamonds. They were taken when she gave her ball a week ago. I want them—aw—wecovered. My fwiend, Mr. Opdyke, has a fwiend who has been wobbed. Mrs. Porthouse, widow of Admirwal Porthouse of the Navy. No doubt you knew the admiral. She has lost diamonds too—she wants them wecovered.”
“And very valuable ones they were, I assure you, sir,” put in Mr. Opdyke, who did not lisp.
“But have you no clew to the thief, gentlemen? Nothing to go by?” asked the detective.
No, they had absolutely nothing to offer. They wanted the thief caught and the diamonds recovered—they had no ideas beyond that.
Old King Brady thought a moment.
“When does society give its next ball, gentlemen?” he asked.