Ogilvy got up, dusted his trowsers, and walked over to the parrot.
"Well it looks like a bird I used to know—I—it certainly resembles—"
He hesitated, then addressing the bird:
"Hello, Leparello—you old scoundrel!" he said, cautiously.
"Forget it!" muttered the bird, cocking his head and lifting first one slate-coloured claw from his perch, then the other;—"forget it! Help! Oh, very well. God bless the ladies!"
"Where on earth did you ever before see my parrot?" asked Valerie, astonished. Ogilvy appeared to be a little out of countenance, too.
"Oh, I really don't remember exactly where I did see him," he tried to explain; and nobody believed him.
"Sam! Answer me!"
"Well, where did you get him?"
"José Querida gave Leparello to me."
Annan and Ogilvy exchanged the briefest glance—a perfectly blank glance.