Well, shall we skip along to the
consomme?"
"I've just got down my dinner," said Rolls, who was guessing too hard
to taste anything with salt in it, in his old classmate's house.
"Well, a little of this champagne cup, anyhow? It's girls' drink, but
not bad this weather, and old Sims is a nailer at mixing---"
"No, thanks, nothing at all."
"You must let me half fill your glass, or those chaps will get onto it
that you're playing dummy!" As he spoke Logan poured champagne cup
into Peter's tall tumbler and his own. The latter he filled with the
ice-cold, sparkling liquid which, as he said, was "girls' drink," and
then, seizing the glass, emptied it in one long draft.
It was he who did most of the talking that whiled away time till the
policemen returned from their tour of the house; and when they opened
the door of the dining-room once more he was eating chicken salad
while Peter crumbled toast.
"I don't see the lady!" Logan exclaimed facetiously, with his mouth
full.
"Neither did we," said the man who had taken the lead.
"Hope you did the thing thoroughly while you were about it! Garret to
cellar and all the rest?"
"You bet we did," returned the policeman, allowing himself the relief
of a grin now.
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