"The thing's done, and can't be undone," Henry protested vehemently.
"What's done, Henry?" I inquired in a perfectly innoxious tone.
As Henry hesitated, Pat spoke. "Oh, I may as well blurt it straight out," she said. "Uncle Livingston and I were going to announce it, in due form, but I'd just as soon tell you now. Mr. McGinity, the Daily Recorder reporter, whom you cruelly attacked and locked up in the cellar, last night, received proper attention, and was put to bed in the Blue Room, after you and Mr. Olinski had retired. He's now having his breakfast, very comfortably, I hope, in bed."
Henry stared at Pat incredulously. "Um!" he exclaimed at last.
Thereupon, she gave a plain, straightforward account of things. Told all she knew, while I corroborated and amplified her statements whenever necessary. And two more surprised-looking men, I never saw in my life before. As she proceeded, Henry's face cleared. "Um!" he said again, when the full story had been told.
"I don't think I'm much of a hand at advising in such matters," Pat went on, "but in view of the nice mess of things you've made, Uncle Henry—"
As she paused uncertainly, Henry caught my eye. "What do you say, Livingston?" he asked.
"Well, if you ask me, Henry, I agree entirely with Pat," I replied, with decision. "Assault of this reporter, and his detention in the cellar, rank as an act in contravention of the criminal code, the penalties for which, as you are no doubt aware, are very severe."
"We don't want any more scenes like last night, do we, Uncle Henry?" Pat put in, ingenuously.
"Um! Um!" said Henry, reflectively.