Mr. Doxey snickered. "My wife wouldn't 'a' stood for me--" "My good man, there were a number of married men there. All of 'em, no doubt, were being shadowed by detectives. I thought perhaps you might have got in--but, there! I am tattling. Please sit down, Mr. Doxey." He threw himself into a comfortable chair and crossed his legs. Then he proceeded to light a cigaret. Mr. Van Pycke, senior, had been sitting for some minutes, a strangely preoccupied look in his eyes, his lips twitching as if with pain. "I guess I'll just set out here," said the detective, looking from one to the other shrewdly. "The town's full of those Raffles crooks. How do I know--" "Quite right, Doxey. How could you know? You sleep too soundly." "If you're what you say you are, why don't you call in the footman to identify you?" "Bellows has already announced us, Mr. Doxey. I'm hanged if I'll ask him to do it over again. Now that I think of it, he almost burst while doing it. It's not my fault that you did not hear him." Mr. Doxey looked uncomfortable. "Well, just keep your hands off from the jewels," he said. Mr. Van Pycke, senior, spoke for the first time in many minutes. It was easy to see where his thoughts had been directed during the trifling dialogue. His gaze was attached to the patent-leather shoes he wore. "I don't see how that demmed dummy ever got into these shoes. They're almost killing me. Confound it, Bosworth, don't grin like an ape! You are tight, sir,--disgustingly tight!" "I'll lay you a fiver I'm not so tight as the shoes, dad." Mr. Doxey snickered. Van Pycke, père, glared at him in a shocked sort of way for a moment, and then, disdaining the affront, fell to tenderly pressing each of his insteps, very much as if trying to discover a spot that had not yet developed a pain. The detective took a seat where he could watch the two gentlemen and at the same time keep an eye on the door through to the dining-room far beyond. Bosworth smoked in silence for some time. "What's the meaning of all this?" he asked, after a while, indicating the group of dummies with a comprehensive sweep of his hand. "I'm not here to answer questions," said Mr. Doxey, succinctly. "Oh!" said Bosworth. Mr. Van Pycke stirred restlessly. "By Jove, I think I'll--'I'll have to go upstairs and change these shoes for my own, wet or dry. I can't stand 'em any longer. I dare say my trousers are dry by this time, too." He arose with great deliberateness. He took two delicate steps toward the hall door; then Mr. Doxey's irritatingly brusque voice brought him up with a jerk. "Hold on, there! None o' that--none o' that! You set right where you are, mister. I guess I'll just keep you in plain view for a while. Fine work, me lettin' you go upstairs, eh? Fine work, I don't think!" "Confound you, sir, I'll--" began Mr. Van Pycke, drawing himself to his full height with a spasmodic effort that brought its results in pain.