“Don’t interrupt, old man. This parrot had got out of one of the houses, and a fellow was jabbing at it with a stick, and Jill—you know what she’s like; impulsive, I mean, and all that—Jill got hold of the stick and biffed him with some vim, and a policeman rolled up and the fellow made a fuss and the policeman took Jill and me off to chokey. Well, like an ass, I sent round to Derek to bail us out, and that’s how he heard of the thing. Apparently he didn’t think a lot of it, and the result was that he broke off the engagement.”
Algy Martin had listened to this recital with growing amazement.
“He broke it off because of that?”
“Yes.”
“What absolute rot!” said Algy Martyn. “I don’t believe a word of it!”
“I say, old man!”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” repeated Algy firmly. “And nobody else will either. It’s dashed good of you, Freddie, to cook up a yarn like that to try and make things look better for the blighter, but it won’t work. Such a damn silly story, too!” said Algy with some indignation.
“But it’s true!”
“What’s the use, Freddie, between old pals?” said Algy protestingly. “You know perfectly well that Underhill’s a cootie of the most pronounced order, and that, when he found out that Jill hadn’t any money, he chucked her.”
“But why should Derek care whether Jill was well off or not? He’s got enough money of his own.”