"Gee!" says I. "If that's his reg'lar get up, he's got Mark Twain's Phoebe Snow outfit beat a mile. But does Rinkey always rest on his face when he sits down?" "It's that position which puzzles me," says Pinckney. "All I could get out of him was that Sahib Twiggle was in bed, and wouldn't see anyone." "Oh, then the heathen is wise to United States talk, is he?" says I. "He understands English, of course," says Pinckney, "but he declines to talk." "That's easy fixed," says I, reachin' out and grabbin' Rinkey by the slack of his bloomers. "Maybe his conversation works is out of kink," and I up ends Rinkey into a chair. "Be careful!" Pinckney sings out. "They're treachous chaps." I had my eye peeled for cutlery, but he was the mildest choc'late cream you ever saw. He slumped there on the chair, shiverin' as if he had a chill comin' on, and rollin' his eyes like a cat in a fit. He was so scared he didn't know the day of the month from the time of night. "Cheer up, Rinkey," says I, "and act sociable. Now tell the gentleman what's ailin' your boss." It was like talkin' into a 'phone when the line's out of business. Rinkey goes on sendin' Morse wireless with his teeth, and never unloosens a word. "Look here, Br'er Singh," says I, "you ain't gettin' any third degree--yet! Cut out the ague act and give Mr. Pinckney the straight talk. He's got a date here and wants to know why the gate is up." More silence from Rinkey. "Oh, well," says I, "I expect it ain't etiquette to jump the outside guard; but if we're goin' to get next to Sir Hunter, it looks like we had to announce ourselves. Here goes!" I starts for the inside door; but I hadn't got my knuckles on the panel before Rinkey was givin' me the knee tackle and splutterin' all kinds of language. "Hey!" says I. "Got the cork out, have you?" With that Rinkey gets up and beckons us over into the far corner. "The lord sahib," says he, rollin' his eyes at the bed room door--"the lord sahib desire that none should come near. He is in great anger." "What's he grouchy about?" says I. "The lord sahib," says he, "will destroy to death poor Ringhi Singh if he reveals." "Destroy to death is good," says I; "but it don't sound convincin'. I think we're bein' strung." Pinckney has the same idea, so I gets a good grip on Rinkey's neck. "Come off!" says I. "As a liar you're too ambitious. You tell us what's the matter with your boss, or I'll do things to you that'll make bein' destroyed to death seem like fallin' on a feather bed!" And it come, quick. "Yes, sahib," says he. "It is that there has been lost beyond finding the lord sahib's glorious eye." "Sizzlin' sisters! Another pane gone!" says I. "This must be my eye retrievin' day, for sure."