“Did you call, mum?” inquired the small maid-servant.
“Get out!” shouted Brett; and the door slammed.
“Mr. Blett,” whimpered the Japanese, “I did not do this thing. I am innocent. I knew nothing about it until—until—”
“You verified the motto on the blade by consulting the ‘Nihon Suai Shi’ in the British Museum.”
This shot floored Jiro metaphorically, and his wife literally, for she sank into a heap.
“He knows everything, Nummie,” she cried.
“Evelything!” repeated her husband.
“Then tell him the rest!”. (Yet she was born in Suffolk.)
Brett scowled terribly as a subterfuge for laughter.
“Tell me,” he said, “why you helped this amazing scoundrel?”