blooming story. It seems that he got it from your bally private detective."
"Good!" said the other brightly. "You got off cheap," he added quickly, catching the look in Stuyvie's eye.
"I did it to spare Cricklewick a whole lot of embarrassment," said the younger man stiffly.
"I don't get you."
"He never could look me in the face again if he found out I was the man he was panning so unmercifully the other night at our own dinner table." He wiped his brow again. "'Gad, he'd never forgive himself."
Which goes to prove that Stuyvie was more considerate of the feelings of others than one might have credited him with being.
********
Mrs. Millidew was very particular about chauffeurs,—an idiosyncrasy, it may be said, that brought her into contact with a great many of them in the course of a twelvemonth. The last one to leave her without giving the customary week's notice had remained in her employ longer than any of his predecessors. A most astonishing discrepancy appeared in their statements as to the exact length of time he was in her service. Mrs. Millidew maintained that he was with her for exactly three weeks; the chauffeur swore to high heaven that it was three centuries.
She had Thomas Trotter up before her.
"You have been recommended to me by Mr. Cricklewick," she said, regarding him with a critical eye. "No other reference is necessary, so don't go fumbling
