I went to get the newspapers which I'd kept in my warbags for him, and when I came back he turned loose a volley of questions, searching me to the bones until he had all the truth.
"Well, well," he said at last, with a queer smile, "these yere official parties seem to be takin' quite an interest, eh? I thank you, seh, and I'm full satisfied." Then he stood up. "You must be kinder hungry, Misteh Davies. Spose you jest interview my cook. I think that you and him has met before, and won't need introducin'. My son and I will join you presently."
I strayed out through the messroom and found the kitchen beyond. Sure enough the cook and I were acquainted, although I had not expected to see this particular person in shirt and overalls, and his bare arms white with flour. He was plenty absorbed too, dipping balls of chopped meat into a pan full of mess.
"How air you, seh?"
He shied right off his feet and turned to face me, looking as guilty as a caught fox.
"I guessed as much," he gasped; "all blackguards are bound to flock together here."
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Ryan," says I.
Then he collected himself for war. "State your business, and get right out of here. I'm engaged!"
"I'm engaged likewise"—I sat down on a box, and a dog came fawning to me—"wharas this dog is polite, and sets an example. He's plumb full of decorum and depawtment."
I hardly know what possessed me. Ryan's looks perhaps, or the way he guarded those meat balls. I grabbed the nearest, and fed it to the dog so quick that Ryan had only time enough to give himself dead away.