“Come in for a fortune?” inquired the latter, eying him sourly.
“No; I've saved one,” replied Mr. Spriggs, gayly. “I wonder I didn't think of it myself.”
“Think of what?” inquired Mr. Price.
“You'll soon know,” said Mr. Spriggs, “and you've only got yourself to thank for it.”
Uncle Gussie sniffed suspiciously; Mrs. Spriggs pressed for particulars.
“I've got out of the difficulty,” said her husband, drawing his chair to the tea-table. “Nobody'll suffer but Gussie.”
“Ho!” said that gentleman, sharply.
“I took the day off,” said Mr. Spriggs, smiling contentedly at his wife, “and went to see a friend of mine, Bill White the policeman, and told him about Gussie.”
Mr. Price stiffened in his chair.
“Acting—under—his—advice,” said Mr. Spriggs, sipping his tea, “I wrote to Scotland Yard and told 'em that Augustus Price, ticket-of-leave man, was trying to obtain a hundred and ten pounds by false pretences.”