“There can be no doubt the rascal brought the bag into the house. I remember now seeing him carry it into the hall. Yet it was not in his possession when we caught him in the garden, and it must have been found if it were lying among the shrubs, or he had left it in the house. By Jove! Is it possible that he had an accomplice? Really, Schwartz, you ought to have called in the police if the matter is so serious.”
“This quarrel is between Prince John and myself,” said Schwartz, sullenly. “He may have had others to help, though it is difficult to see how that could be, under the circumstances. But this is only the second round of a big fight. He and I will meet again, probably on a certain island in the Niger which we both know well. Then we shall settle the ownership of that small god, for keeps.”
“Oh!” cried Dolly, “is it an idol?”
Then Schwartz tried to pull himself together.
“No, Miss Dorothy, not an idol, but a fetish,” he said, with his usual grin. “The fact is, I fear I have led you to believe that I attach an exaggerated value to it. It is only a bit of carved ivory, which the natives regard as a talisman. But it had a sentimental interest for me, much as a gambler at Monte Carlo might prize a champagne cork, or a piece of coal, or some equally ridiculous charm which he had carried in his pocket on the night of a big coup.”
“Me-ow!” said Tibbie, looking up at Minkie.
“Yes, darling,” said Minkie, “the dish is going out now, and I have told cook to save you the tit-bits. Dan, come back here! Who stole Tibbie’s milk last night?”
“Misère de Dieu!” as mademoiselle said when she was turning over the strawberry plants and grabbed a wasp—who split on me? Was it Evangeline? Wait till I catch her sliding down to the front gate to-night when her young man whistles “Annie Rooney.” I’ll raise the house.
“I suppose you had some lively times occasionally in West Africa, Schwartz?” said the Old Man cheerfully, his idea being to swing the talk away from a topic which his guest seemed to avoid.
“Y-yes, for a few minutes every now and then. But the excitement soon passed. For the rest, it was deadly dull, a sort of slow crescendo up to the boiling point of fever, and a gradual diminuendo back to flabby health again. It is no country for a white man, unless he wants his relations to collect his life insurance.”