Bones in London. Wallace Edgar

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      "That doesn't look right." He shook his head. "I don't know what'scoming over me. Do you spell 'cynical' with one 'k' or two?"

      Bones looked up.

      He saw a brown-faced man, with laughing grey eyes, a tall man in a longovercoat, carrying a grey silk hat in his hand.

      "Pardon me, my jolly old intruder," said Bones with dignity, "this is aprivate – " Then his jaw dropped and he leant on the desk forsupport. "Not my – Good heavens!" he squeaked, and then leaptacross the room, carrying with him the flex of his table lamp, whichfell crashing to the floor.

      "Ham, you poisonous old reptile!" He seized the other's hand in hisbony paw, prancing up and down, muttering incoherently.

      "Sit down, my jolly old Captain. Let me take your overcoat. Well!Well! Well! Give me your hat, dear old thing – dear old Captain, Imean. This is simply wonderful! This is one of the most amazin'experiences I've ever had, my dear old sportsman and officer. How longhave you been home? How did you leave the Territory? Good heavens!We must have a bottle on this!"

      "Sit down, you noisy devil," said Hamilton, pushing his erstwhilesubordinate into a chair, and pulling up another to face him.

      "So this is your boudoir!" He glanced round admiringly. "It looksrather like the waiting-room of a couturière."

      "My dear old thing," said the shocked Bones, "I beg you, if you please, remember, remember – " He lowered his voice, and the last word was ina hoarse whisper, accompanied by many winks, nods, and pointings at andto a door which led from the inner office apparently to the outer."There's a person, dear old man of the world – a young person – wellbrought up – "

      "What the – " began Hamilton.

      "Don't be peeved!" Bones's knowledge of French was of the haziest."Remember, dear old thing," he said solemnly, wagging his inkyforefinger, "as an employer of labour, I must protect the young an'innocent, my jolly old skipper."

      Hamilton looked round for a missile, and could find nothing better thana crystal paper-weight, which looked too valuable to risk.

      "'Couturière,'" he said acidly, "is French for 'dressmaker.'"