He took a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it.
“Bah, these women! Under the terms of your revered grandfather’s will you have thrown away all your rights. It looks to me, as a member of the Irish bar in bad standing, as though you had delivered yourself up to the enemy, so far as the legal situation is concerned. How does it strike you?”
“Of course I’ve forfeited my rights. But I don’t mean that any one shall know it yet a while.”
“My lad, don’t deceive yourself. Everybody round here will know it before night. You ran off, left your window open invitingly, and two gentlemen who meditated breaking in found that they needn’t take the trouble. One came in through your own room, noting, of course, your absence, let in his friend below, and tore up the place regrettably.”
“Yes, but how did you get here?—if you don’t mind telling.”
“It’s a short story. That little chap from Scotland Yard, who annoyed me so much in New York and drove me to Mexico—for which may he dwell for ever in fiery torment—has never given up. I shook him off, though, at Indianapolis three days ago. I bought a ticket for Pittsburg with him at my elbow. I suppose he thought the chase was growing tame, and that the farther east he could arrest me the nearer I should be to a British consul and tide-water. I went ahead of him into the station and out to the Pittsburg sleeper. I dropped my bag into my section—if that’s what they call it in your atrocious American language—looked out and saw him coming along the platform. Just then the car began to move,—they were shunting it about to attach a sleeper that had been brought in from Louisville and my carriage, or whatever you call it, went skimming out of the sheds into a yard where everything seemed to be most noisy and complex. I dropped off in the dark just before they began to haul the carriage back. A long train of empty goods wagons was just pulling out and I threw my bag into a wagon and climbed after it. We kept going for an hour or so until I was thoroughly lost, then I took advantage of a stop at a place that seemed to be the end of terrestrial things, got out and started across country. I expressed my bag to you the other day from a town that rejoiced in the cheering name of Kokomo, just to get rid of it. I walked into Annandale about midnight, found this medieval marvel through the kindness of the station-master and was reconnoitering with my usual caution when I saw a gentleman romantically entering through an open window.”
Larry paused to light a fresh cigarette.
“You always did have a way of arriving opportunely. Go on!”
“It pleased my fancy to follow him; and by the time I had studied your diggings here a trifle, things began to happen below. It sounded like a St. Patrick’s Day celebration in an Irish village, and I went down at a gallop to see if there was any chance of breaking in. Have you seen the room? Well,”—he gave several turns to his right wrist, as though to test it,—“we all had a jolly time there by the fireplace. Another chap had got in somewhere, so there were two of them. Your man—I suppose it’s your man—was defending himself gallantly with a large thing of brass that looked like the pipes of a grand organ—and I sailed in with a chair. My presence seemed to surprise the attacking party, who evidently thought I was you,—flattering, I must say, to me!”
“You undoubtedly saved Bates’ life and prevented the rifling of the house. And after you had poured water on Bates,—he’s the servant,—you came up here—”