o this paragraph,
which I read aloud:

"Every puff of those rare cigars you sent me has but reminded
me that my debt to you is still unpaid."

I read thus far; then I read it again. But I could make nothing of it.

"Cigars--cigars?" I exclaimed, puzzled.

Then I forgot the letter as I stared at Jenkins.

"And what's the matter with _you_?" I demanded.

For I had caught him with his hand over his mouth, obviously trying to
suppress a chuckle. He sobered instantly, but seemed embarrassed for a
reply.

"Oh, I say, you know!" I urged him.

He started to speak, then pulled up. His breath went out in a sort of
sigh. And he just stood there looking at me, and looking kind of scared.

Fact! Perfectly irreproachable service for five years; and now here,
dash it, showing emotion and that sort of thing, just like--well, like
_people_, by Jove! Gad, I don't mind saying I was devilish put out! I
screwed my glass rather severely and he made another go:

"I hope, Mr. Lightnut, sir, you'll try to pardon me, sir, but I--Well,
indeed, sir, the mistake wasn't mine; it was the dealer's fault, you
know, sir."

"Oh!"

I stared, polished my glass and nodded. I even chirped up a smile, but I
didn't utter a word. Dash it, what _was_ there to say? But you mustn't
let _them_ know that, you know. So I just waited, and he squirmed a
little and went on:

"It was too late after he told me about the mistake; and I was--well, I
was afraid to mention it to you, sir."

"Mistake! What mistake?"

He gulped; dashed if I didn't think he was going to choke.

"I--I'm sure, sir, I wouldn't have had such a thing happen for--"

I could stand it no longer.

"Oh, I say! I haven't any idea what you're talking about!"

Jenkins cleared his throat with an effort, his eyes rolling at me
apologetically. When he spoke there was a tremble in his utterance, and
it was rather husky:

"Why, sir," he began in a low tone, "you told me to have your dealer
ship this gentleman, this Mr. Mastermann, a dozen boxes of Paloma
perfectos--your favorite brand, you know, sir--ninety dollars the
hundred."

He paused, his fingers resting tremblingly on the edge of the table.

"I dare say," I yawned presently. "Well, what of it?" I was getting
impatient. By Jove, he was making me downright nervous, don't you know!
Besides, I was so devilish anxious to get on with Mastermann's letter. I
wanted to find out, if possible, what it was the fellow had sent m