The Secret Adversary

“I shall stick to the old ship, I think, though it’s aw­fully good of Her­sheim­mer. But I feel you’d be more at home in Lon­don.”

“I don’t see where I come in.”

“I do,” said Tommy pos­it­ively.

“But I sup­pose you prefer ster­ling worth,” said Tup­pence de­murely.

“I—oh, dash it all, Tup­pence, you know!”

“I like your uncle, Tommy,”

“I have done what you asked. Why do you still keep me with you?”

“Not for the pleas­ure of your com­pany. I guess you can get right off now if you want to. I thought you’d rather I tooled you back to Lon­don.”

I reckon Mon­sieur Kra­menin here asked them so pret­tily they just couldn’t re­fuse!”

Let me present Mon­sieur Kra­menin. I per­suaded him to come on the trip for his health.”

Kra­menin, by this time, was as putty in the other’s hands. The ter­rific pace they had come had still fur­ther un­manned him. He had given him­self up for dead at every corner.

“And I tell you,” re­tor­ted Julius, “that Little Wil­lie here is just hop­ping mad to go off!”

The Rus­sian wil­ted vis­ibly.

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Oh, yes, I would, son!”

“I guess ro­mance is a mighty queer thing!”

“It must be,” said Tommy coldly, “if you can come over here in love with one girl, and pro­pose to an­other within a fort­night.”

head, and heaved a sigh—“I guess ro­mance is a mighty queer thing!”

“It must be,” said Tommy coldly, “if you can come over here in love with one girl, and pro­pose to an­other within a fort­night.”

Presently an un­im­peach­able but­ler, ac­com­pan­ied by an equally un­im­peach­able foot­man, is­sued from the front door. The but­ler re­mon­strated with him. Tommy con­tin­ued to sing, ad­dress­ing the but­ler af­fec­tion­ately as “dear old whiskers.” The foot­man took him by one arm, the but­ler by the other. They ran him down the drive, and neatly out of the gate. The but­ler threatened him with the po­lice if he in­truded again