“That’ll be all right,” said Jimmy. “I’m going to bury a brass tube with the Stars and Stripes in it under the carpet.” “Thash quite shfactory,” said Willett, with dignity. “Or, a better idea,” said Jimmy, “I’ll carve a big J on the inside of the front door. Well, I’m off home. Anybody coming my way?” “Yes,” said Mifflin. “We’ll walk. First nights always make me as jumpy as a cat. If I don’t walk my legs off I shan’t get to sleep to-night at all.” “If you think I’m going to help you walk your legs off, my lad, you’re mistaken. I propose to stroll gently home and go to bed.” “Every little helps,” said Mifflin. “Come along.” “You want to keep an eye on that man Jimmy, Arthur,” said Sutton. “He’d sand-bag you and lift your watch as soon as look at you. I believe he’s Arsène Lupin in disguise.” ★ 2 ★ _The New Pyramus and Thisbe_ The two men turned up the street. They walked in silence. Arthur Mifflin was going over in his mind such outstanding events of the evening as he remembered—the nervousness, the relief of finding that he was gripping his audience, the growing conviction that he had made good—while Jimmy seemed to be thinking his own private thoughts. They had gone some distance before either spoke. “Who is she, Jimmy?” asked Mifflin. Jimmy came out of his thoughts with a start. “What’s that?” “Who is she?” “I don’t know what you mean.” “Yes, you do! The sea air. Who is she?” “I don’t know,” said Jimmy simply. “You don’t know? Well, what’s her name?” “I don’t know.” “Doesn’t the _Mauretania_ still print a passenger list?” “She does.” “And you couldn’t find out her name in five days?” “No.” “And that’s the man who thinks he can burgle a house!” said Mifflin despairingly. They had arrived now at the building on the second floor of which was Jimmy’s flat. “Coming in?” said Jimmy. “Well, I was rather thinking of pushing on as far as the park. I tell you, I feel all on wires.” “Come in and smoke a cigar. You’ve got all night before you if you want to do Marathons. I haven’t seen you for a couple of months. I want you to tell me all the news.” “There isn’t any. Nothing happens in New York. The papers say things do, but they don’t. However, I’ll come in. It seems to me that you’re the man with the news.” Jimmy fumbled with his latch-key. “You’re a bright sort of burglar,” said Mifflin disparagingly. “Why don’t you use your oxyacetylene blow-pipe? Do you realise, my boy, that you’ve let yourself in for buying a dinner for twelve hungry men next week? In the cold light of the morning, when Reason returns to her throne, that’ll come home to you.” “I haven’t done anything of the sort,” said Jimmy, unlocking the door. “Don’t tell me you really mean to try it.” “What else did you think I was going to do?”