To this in Mr. Peter Pett had contributed. In the place, the of Jerry Mitchell had him to go two days without the physical to which his had accustomed, and this had produced a heavy, condition of and mind. He had on the of his until he had almost himself up to rebellion. And then, as sometimes with him when he was out of sorts, a touch of came to add to his troubles. Being a patient man by nature, he might have up against these trials, had he been an night's rest. But, just as he had off after for two hours, had to in the library. He to a of below.
Such was the condition of his mind as the result of his that at not the for help him to him to his bed. He that walking in his present would be painful, and he to submit to any more pain just some party unknown was being in his library. It was not until the barking of the dog Aida right in among his nerve-centres and to tie them into that he himself to descend. Even when he did so, it was in no of kindness. He did not come to or to any and his victim. He came in a of to Aida. On the of the library, however, the genius, by on his foot, had his anger and it to more general. He had not to his on Aida. He wanted to everybody.
"What's the here?" he demanded, red-eyed. "Isn't somebody going to tell me? Have I got to stop here all night? Who on earth is this?" He at Miss Trimble. "What's she doing with that pistol?" He with his foot, and a of anguish.
"She is a detective, Peter," said Mrs. Pett timidly.
"A detective? Why? Where did she come from?"
Miss Trimble took it upon herself to explain.
"Mister Pett, Pett sent f'r me t' watch out so's nobody her son."
"Oggie," Mrs. Pett. "Miss Trimble was Oggie."
"Why?"
"To—to prevent him being kidnapped, Peter."
Mr. Pett at the boy. Then his was by the of Jerry Mitchell. He started.
"Was this the boy?" he asked.
"Sure," said Miss Trimble. "Caught h'm with th' goods. He w's waiting there with a car. I h'm and this other guy up w'th a gun and 'em back!"
"Jerry," said Mr. Pett, "it wasn't your fault that you didn't it off, and I'm going to you right. You'd have done it if nobody had in to stop you. You'll the money to start that health-farm of yours all right. I'll see to that. Now you off to bed. There's nothing to keep you here."
"Say!" Miss Trimble, outraged. "D'ya t' say y' aren't going t' pros'cute? Why, aren't I tell'ng y' I h'm th' boy?"
"I told him to the boy!" Mr. Pett.
"Peter!"
Mr. Pett looked like an under-sized lion as he his wife. He bristled. The of all that he had from Ogden came to his determination.
"I've for two years to you to send that boy to a good boarding-school, and you wouldn't do it. I couldn't having him around the house any longer, so I told Jerry Mitchell to take him away to a friend of his who a dogs' hospital on Long Island and to tell his friend to him there till he got some into him. Well, you've that for the moment with your detectives, but it still looks good to me. I'll give you a choice. You can either send that boy to a boarding-school next week, or he goes to Jerry Mitchell's friend. I'm not going to have him in the house any longer, in my chair and my cigarettes. Which is it to be?"
"But, Peter!"
"Well?"
"If I send him to a school, he may be kidnapped."
"Kidnapping can't him. It's what he needs. And, anyway, if he is I'll pay the bill and be to do it. Take him off to now. To-morrow you can start looking up schools. Great Godfrey!" He to the writing-desk and at the on it. "Who's been making this on my desk? It's hard! It's hard! The only room in the house that I ask to have for my own, where I can a little peace, and I it into a beer-garden, and coffee or some thing all over my writing-desk!"
"That isn't coffee, Peter," said Mrs. Pett mildly. This cave-man she had married under the that he was a had taken all the out of her. "It's Willie's explosive."
"Willie's explosive?"
"Lord Wisbeach—I the man who to be Lord Wisbeach—dropped it there."
"Dropped it there? Well, why didn't it and the place to Hoboken, then?"
Mrs. Pett looked at Willie, who his into his of and rolled his eyes.
"There was some in my formula, uncle Peter," he said. "I shall have to look into it to-morrow. Whether the trinitrotoluol—"
Mr. Pett a howl. He the air with his fists. He to be having a brain-storm.
"Has this—this fish been on me all this time—have I been supporting this—this in luxury all these years while he about with an that won't explode! He pointed an at the inventor. Look into it tomorrow, will you? Yes, you can look into it to-morrow after six o'clock! Until then you'll be working—for the time in your life—working in my office, where you ought to have been all along." He the room belligerently. "Now you will all go to and let people a little sleep. Go home!" he said to the detective.
Miss Trimble her ground. She Mrs. Pett pass away with Ogden, and Willie Partridge a of geniuses, but she to move.
"Y' cut th' stuff, 'ster Pett," she said calmly. "I need my sleep, j'st 's much 's everyb'dy else, but I here. There's a lady c'ming right up in a taxi fr'm th' Astorbilt to identify this gook. She's after'm f'r something."
"What! Skinner?"
"'s what he calls h'mself."
"What's he done?"
"I d'no. Th' lady'll tell us that."
There was a at the door bell.
"I that's her," said Miss Trimble. "Who's going to let 'r in? I can't go."
"I will," said Ann.
Mr. Pett Mr. Crocker with encouragement.
"I don't know what you've done, Skinner," he said, "but I'll by you. You're the best I met, and if I can keep you out of the penitentiary, I will."
"It isn't the penitentiary!" said Mr. Crocker unhappily.
A tall, handsome, and determined-looking woman came into the room. She in the doorway, looking about her. Then her rested on Mr. Crocker. For a moment she at his face. She a little nearer, peering.
"D'yo 'dentify 'm, ma'am?" said Miss Trimble.
"Bingley!"
"Is 't th' guy y' wanted?"
"It's my husband!" said Mrs. Crocker.
"Y' can't 'm f'r that!" said Miss Trimble disgustedly.
She her into the of her costume.
"Guess I'll be beatin' it," she said with a frown. She was in no sunny mood. "'f all th' jobs I was on, this is th' hunkest. I'm told off 't watch a of crooks, and after I've a night's sleep doing it, it out 't's a nice, fam'ly party!" She her thumb Jimmy. "Say, this guy says he's that guy's son. I s'pose it's all right?"
"That is my step-son, James Crocker."
Ann a little cry, but it was in Miss Trimble's snort. The to the window.
"I I'll 't," she caustically, "before it out that I'm y'r l'il Genevieve."
