“He didn’t give you this?” said he, pulling out of his pocket a silver vase. “No.” At this Minerva actually began to sob. “Oh, Mist. Vernon, how could you say that? I found that vase in the kitchen this morning, and this man says it was stolen from them people. Oh, why did I come up here?” “Philip, you might as well tell the whole story,” said Ethel, coming back from the parlour. “We’ll probably lose Minerva now, anyway.” “So there _is_ a story,” said the constable, crossing his legs in a most irritating way. In fact he couldn’t have done anything that would not have been irritating. I saw that the best thing to do was to tell the truth, ridiculous as it might sound with Minerva there. Indeed, the very fact of my telling it might soften the girl and show her how much we were willing to descend in our efforts to keep her valuable services. But I made a wrong start. I said: “I knew that the man was a burglar—” Minerva immediately burst out sobbing and left the kitchen and went to her room, and my mental eye could see her remorselessly packing her trunk. “Go on,” said the constable, and then, “Go outside,” said he to the mulatto. “Well, now that they’ve gone,” said I in a relieved tone, “I can tell you the whole thing, farcical as it is. Have you a servant?” “My wife has a hired girl. What’s that got to do with it?” “Do you have trouble in keeping her?” “We have trouble in keeping _them_. It’s one after another. They all get the itch for the mills or the stores.” “Good! Then you’ll understand me,” said I, and I told him the whole story, going on to say: “When we were roused by this burglar, and I realized that Minerva would throw up her position if she was unduly startled, I resolved to throw myself on the burglar’s mercy, and ask him to pose as my friend, so as to deceive Minerva. It worked all right, or would have worked all right if you hadn’t come here to upset her worse than ever. She’s probably packing her trunk, now—” “By Godfrey, I’m sorry,” said the constable, who seemed a very decent sort of fellow, now that I knew him better. “You may well be sorry,” said I, with considerably more spirit than I had yet shown. “Of course, I understand that you are doing your duty, but it’s always best to come to headquarters in an affair of this kind. You got only a garbled version from Minerva. I have given you the facts. The burglar evidently left that cup by mistake, and the Fayerweathers are welcome to it. I’m sure I never want to see it again. It would be a perpetual reminder of our loss of Minerva.”