The door was not locked, and, without leaving the bed, Nick told the person to enter.
The visitor was Tambourine Jack, and the detective brightened at the sight of him.
Jack rammed his hands into his pockets and emitted a long whistle.
“What does that mean?” Nick asked.
“I just did that to relieve myself,” he answered; “the fat is in the fire.”
“Explain.”
“Well, seeing it is you and you are not dead, I will,” said Tambourine. “Above all things don’t forget you are dead.”
“Dead!” exclaimed Nick.
“That was what I said,” answered the little fellow, “and I’ve come to town to put a notice in the paper. Friends and relatives invited to attend the funeral, no flowers, and all that. I told my friends that you had lit out for another world and, as I was never known to tell a lie—why, of course, it must be so. Do you catch on?”
The detective laughingly said: