Chu-Chu, who gave the name of Numas, was the hero of the yarn. He told how he had seen the thief climb over the wall and had followed him into the house and up the stairs. Spying from the curtains, Numas had seen him start to work on the safe, when he had waited for about five minutes hoping that somebody might come and assist in the capture. Numas had not wished to call or to go to look for assistance, for fear the thief might escape, but had finally determined to tackle him single-handed. In the scuffle he had managed to disarm the marauder, and had shot at him with his own revolver and received a knife-thrust in return. Then another chauffeur had come to his aid, but the burglar had managed to overcome them both and make his escape.
The beautiful Princess Petrovski, who was such a familiar figure in the theatres and fashionable restaurants, and was so often to be seen at the races with Prince Kharkoff—the chap who had got me deported, you know—had taken the chauffeur for the afternoon, her own car undergoing repairs. Acting from a sentiment impossible to commend sufficiently, she had ordered that the hero be sent to a maison de santé in her own quarter, where she might be able personally to superintend his nursing.
Then followed a lot of rot about the attempted burglary and the heroism of the other chauffeur. I had taken him for a wine-bibbing footman, but it appears he was a large, fat, private chauffeur in a fancy uniform. He described how he had first heard a suspicious noise in the conservatory—more flower-pots knocked off the shelf, I suppose—but,
