“What does he mean?”
“He’s talking Spanish, I believe. The few words I could make sense of showed that he regarded last night’s general contentment as the calm before the storm.”
“Dan,” said I, “you are only two years old. Polly is twenty, at the least. If you count up you will find that he is ten times wiser than you.”
Dan looked at me suspiciously. After thinking for a minute or two and scratching hard on the back of his head, he got me to let him out. When I came down to breakfast I discovered him listening to Polly, who was singing extracts from the latest musical comedies. The instant I appeared Polly became silent. He clung to the wires sideways, and watched me steadily, first with one eye and then with the other. Even Tibbie sat blinking at me from the hearth-rug, and when I went round to the stable, dear old Bob turned in his stall and stared at me solemnly. Talk about a ju-ju, the Gang can read my very thoughts!
Dan and Tibbie and Rikki began to follow at my heels, and it grieved me very much to be compelled to shut them up in the coach-house. But I had to do it. I put on my beaver hat and an astrachan jacket, went out through the front gate, doubled down the paddock, crossed the fir plantation, and made my way by a field path to Breckonhurst, the next station to Dale End. I took a return ticket to London, remained in the waiting-room until a train came in, and then popped quickly into the nearest empty carriage. At Waterloo I sat in the train until the other passengers had quitted the platform. After that, I took my chance of not being recognized.
My first call was at a jeweller’s in Piccadilly. I showed him the ju-ju, and asked him what the beads were. He screwed a funny-shaped glass into his right eye and examined them.
“They are different varieties of chalcedony,” he said. “There are agates, carnelians, cat’s eyes, onyx, sards, and three kinds of flints in this collection.”
“Good gracious!” said I.
“What is it?” he asked, looking curiously at the idol.