'I cannot do that.'
'Well, no, perhaps you had better not. Do you happen to have a bunch of keys with you?'
'No, sir.'
'Well, never mind. Bring me the case. I will be a man. I will show the world I am not in my dotage. I will be of the masculine gender, dative case, if it pleases me, and Admonition may lump it if she don't like it.'
Mehalah obeyed. She found the box, which was of iron, brought it downstairs, and placed it on the table by Mr. Pettican. 'I've been turning the matter over in my mind,' said he, 'and I see a very happy way out of it without a row. Give me the poker. You will find a cold chisel in that drawer.'
'I will tell you my idea. Whilst I am left here all alone, burglars have broken into the house, knowing my helpless condition, and have ransacked the place, found my cashbox and broken it open.' He chuckled and rubbed his hands. 'I shall be able accurately to describe the ruffians. One has a black moustache, and the other a red beard, and they look like foreigners and speak a Dutch jargon.'
He put the chisel to the lid, and struck at it with the poker, starting the hinges by the blow.
At that moment the door was flung wide, and in swam a dashing young woman in very gay colours, on the arm of a yachtsman.
'Charles!' she cried; 'what are you after?' then turning abruptly on Mehalah, 'And pray what are you doing here, in my house?' Mr. Pettican's head, which had been craned forward in eagerness over the box, retreated amidst the collar and cravat, and almost disappeared.
'Who are you?' she asked of Mehalah, with an insulting air. 'Out of this house with you at once!'