Teddy, mindful of the threat which had been breathed into his ear, was just about to creep back again when he heard another door open more noisily than the first, and then a quick challenging voice; the sound of running feet—a scuffle—and a fall: then other doors opening and more running feet; and lights seemed to flash up all over the house. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Teddy scuttled downstairs in his small pyjamas and headed straight for the fray.
In the dining-room he burst in upon a curious group. In the centre was Mr. Donah, struggling feebly and ineffectually between the grasp of two of the footmen; standing by the fireplace, looking at Mr. Donah sternly, was Sir Leopold Kershaw, appearing dignified even in a dressing-gown and with his hair rumpled; while the room was half-filled by a crowd of semi-clad, startled servants.
"Yer 'Ighness," exclaimed Mr. Donah, with some poor show of cheerfulness, as the boy appeared, "yer 'umble is a fair gorner!"
Sir Leopold, apparently not hearing the remark or not understanding, proceeded to improve the occasion.
"You have been caught, my fine fellow, in the perpetration of one of the most heinous crimes possible to imagine—that of purloining, after forcible entry, goods to which you have no right. Now, sir, I am a Justice of the Peace, and, while I must warn you not to say anything which will tend to incriminate you at your public trial, I am willing to hear any remarks you may make with reference to your purpose in being here or your reason for selecting my abode for your nefarious practices."
Mr. Donah looked all round him, somewhat helplessly; fixed his eye on Teddy, and winked with some cheerfulness; gave that peculiar jerk to his head which seemed to express any emotion of the moment; and spoke.
"Guv'nor, and yer 'Ighness, it's a thousand to one in canary birds that I'm up the wust gum-tree as ever you see! Fair nabbed, wiv me dukes on the bloomin' 'all-marked ladles and corfee-pots, I am, an' don't yer fergit it! As fer alibis an' sich-like fings, yer won't find one abaht me, if yer search me till Easter Monday. It's a fair cop, an' no error. Same time I should jist like to say as 'ow this is the fust time I've been on the rails in all my natural, an' it ain't exactly my fault."
"Pray explain yourself," said Sir Leopold, loftily.
"Righto, ole Poker-back, just 'arf a shake! I'm a-comin' to it. I've got a little nipper at 'ome, wot's wasted away to a mere shadder—yer might let go a bloke's arm an' let him rub 'is dial-plate, Calves—'an 'e's a-lyin' in one room, an' most of the bed-clothes is up the spout. I've 'ollered 'Fine 'earty cabbage!' till I've got it on my brain, an' 'tain't no good. Then, comin' in 'ere wiv the missis t'other day ter lunch (leastways they called it lunch, but it was abaht a full week's grub fer us) wiv 'is 'Ighness——"