e question, not
angrily, but querulously, like a child.

"I was having a look around," replied Peter coolly.

"Oh! And did you find anybody?"

"No."

"H-m! I thought you wouldn't."

Peter hesitated. He meant to conceal the housekeeper's share in the
night's encounters, but he knew that both Andy and the chauffeur would
talk, and so,

"There _was_ somebody outside, Mr. McGuire," he said. "You were not
mistaken, a man prowling in the dark near the kitchen. Andy thought it
was the chauffeur, who was in the garage washing the cars."

"Ah!"

McGuire started up, battling for his manhood. It seemed to Peter that
his gasp was almost one of relief at discovering that his eyes had not
deceived him, that the face he had seen was that of a real person,
instead of the figment of a disordered mind.

"Ah! Why didn't they shoot him?"

"I've just said, sir, Andy thought it was the chauffeur."

McGuire was pacing the floor furiously.

"He has no business to think. I pay him to act. And you--what did you
do?"

"Three of us searched the whole place--every tree, every bush--every
shadow----. The man has gone."

"Gone," sneered the other. "A H---- of a mess you're making of this
job!"

Peter straightened angrily, but managed to control himself.

"Very well, Mr. McGuire," he said. "Then you'd better get somebody else
at once."

He had never given notice before but the hackneyed phrase fell crisply
from his lips. For many reasons, Peter didn't want to go, but he bowed
and walked quickly across the room. "Good-night," he said.

Before he had reached the door the frightened man came stumbling after
him and caught him by the arm.

"No, no, Nichols. Come back. D'ye hear? You mustn't be so d---- touchy.
Come back. You can't go. I didn't mean anything. Come now!"

Peter paused, his hand on the knob, and looked down into the man's
flabby, empurpled countenance.

"I thought you meant it," he said.

"No. I--I didn't. I--I like you, Nichols--liked you from the very
first--yesterday. Of course you can't be responsible for all the
boneheads here."

Peter had "called the bluff." Perhaps the lesson might have a salutary
effect. And so, as his good humor came back to him, he smiled
pleasantly.

"You see, Mr. McGuire, you could hardly expect Andy to shoot the
chauffeur. They're on excellent terms."

McGuire had settled down into a chair near the table, and motioned Peter
to another one near him.

"Sit down, Nichols. Anoth