"Don't cry, Blakeman," said Jack, soothingly. "It's only once in a coon's age you're fooled."
"Do you suppose the slyboots has gone to bed?" asked Blakeman, again tipping back his chair, and returning to his professional manner. "Uncle Sam hasn't got any spare cash to waste on such like. Just open the door, Rufus, and see if you see any of the girls about."
A dining-room girl good-naturedly consented to go in search of 'Tilda Jane, and upon entering the room found her on her knees thoughtfully looking down at the railway tracks running close to the hotel.
Stepping forward and gently touching her shoulder, the girl pointed down-stairs.
'Tilda Jane nodded, smiled, and, taking her hand, went out into the hall and down the staircases with her. 'Tilda Jane stared at the ring of men sitting in the smoking-room. When she caught sight of her friend of the morning, she smiled and bobbed her head at him, then, letting her dog slip from her arm to the floor, she stood in silence, waiting to be questioned.
She had no doubt that this was some special tribunal called together to deliberate upon her case. She was not afraid of these men, they had kindly faces.
"What made you pretend you were deaf and dumb?" asked the inspector, at last.
She opened her mouth once or twice, tried to speak, failed, and at last articulated with difficulty, and with an air of genuine surprise, "Why—ain't I deef an' dumb? I ain't spoke ever since he made me think so till now," and she nodded toward the assistant inspector.
"I made you think so!" ejaculated Blakeman, irritably.