right fore-finger dramatically at Billie Budd at the other end of the
table, as he said:

"Inspector Letstrayed, do your duty! There stands the guilty wretch!"

CHAPTER VIII

As Holmes finished, the man from Scotland Yard quietly got up, also
cleared his throat, waddled around the table in a very pompous manner,
placed his fat left hand on Budd's shoulder, and said solemnly, in
that sepulchral tone of voice that he generally adopted for such
occasions:

"William X. Budd, it now becomes my painful duty to arrest you in the
Queen's name--er, no, I mean the King's (that's right, old Vic is dead
now),--to arrest you in the King's name for the following high crimes
and misdemeanors, contrary to the statutes made and in such cases
provided, to wit: Burglary, Robbery, Conspiracy, Assault and Battery,
and Attempted Murder! It is also my duty to inform you that anything
you may say will be used against you, as usual, you know! Now come
with me quietly!"

"Aw, what the Sam Hill are you giving us, you old dub? I never did
anything to you to have you call me names like that!" shouted Budd,
and he instantly wrenched himself loose from Letstrayed's none too
muscular grasp, and ran at top speed out of the room and down the long
corridor outside, upsetting the contents of his finger-bowl all over
the leather seat of his fancy chair.

The Countess promptly had hysterics, and then fainted in the arms of
her gaping brother-in-law, Lord Launcelot, while everybody else,
except Holmes, myself, and the Earl, grew red and white by turns; and
Uncle Tooter, in attempting to arise suddenly, fell out of his chair
and tumbled on the floor in a very undignified manner.

"Holy smoke! Don't let him get away like that, you pack of rummies!
Get up and chase him!" shouted Holmes in great excitement, as he
pulled a revolver out of his hip-pocket and dashed madly out of the
room after the fleeing and recreant Budd, while the rest of us,
galvanized back to life by the sudden developments, took after the
great detective down the corridor, in the way that they generally do
in the movies, all hollering: "Stop--thief!" at the top of our voices.

_Bang! Bang!_ Holmes shot twice at Budd, but the bullets went wild,
and we all continued the chase through the kitchen, down the rear
stairway, and out through the wide gardens between the castle and the
stables, while Louis La Violette, the French cook, cursed us volubly
in his best Parisian for distu