"Why ... it isn't '_W_'--can't you understand? You're holding it upside down. It is '_M_'--standing for my first name: Maria Theresa." The detective grudgingly handed her the trinket. He looked into his memorandum book again, chewing the end of his pencil. "Now, there's just one more thing, Miss..." Carlos could control himself no longer. He caught the officer's arm in a feverish grip, which was as promptly thrown off. "You will pardon me, but I wish to inform you that this man's name is Warren..." he began. The detective spun about, and protruded his heavy chin at the Duke. "Say, who's running this 'Third Degree'--you or me?" The Duke tried to temporize. "But, my dear man..." "Say, cull, I ain't your dear man. Cut that guff--don't dearie me. I'm a big rough fellow, but I've got some gumption. You get out of here." He gave him a thoroughly plebeian push toward the door. "Yes, Carlos, do go. Leave us to attend to this matter. These gentlemen are so kind and so sympathetic. I am sure we can finish this better without you." "I merely wished to point out..." "You point _him_ out, Jim," ordered the first detective to his assistant. "You hear what the lady says. This is her cabin." The second official caught the aristocrat with a rude grasp of the velvet coat-collar and shook him as one would a child. The Duke's teeth chattered. "Out yer goes, and if yer butts in again I'll fan yer. Beat it! Do yer hear? Do yer get me? Skibooch!" The Duke tried to regain his equilibrium before braving the publicity of the saloon. His voice trembled with passion, as he retorted: "An infernal outrage! I'll report this to his Majesty, the King." The first detective looked at the jocular Warren Jarvis, who published his third wink, this time in the direction of the big sleuth. "King! Huh! Roosevelt wasn't elected! Did yer get that, Jim? Well, what do you know about that?" Jarvis leaned forward, with a sibilant whisper of secrecy: "Sssh! Gentlemen. Don't be disturbed. He is quite harmless. You heard him raving about a king? He suffers from pernicious megalomania. That's all--nothing more. He has grandiose ideas." Jim coughed apologetically as his superior officer blinked. "What does them words mean, Jim?" "Wheels--bats in his belfry--just plain nutty, Mike." "You mean he is crazy, mister?" Jarvis nodded. "Yes, he is at times. But don't be cross with him, for he has a beautiful nature, except when the ravages of the disease are upon him. You know, he doesn't even like _me_ when he has a spell like this. But he's not at all dangerous. It is just necessary to humor him--he's not to blame--it's the way he was raised." "Then you're looking out for him?" and the detective looked furtively toward the door, as he reassured himself by fumbling with the revolver in his own hip-pocket. "Yes, that's my job." The big sleuth shook his head sadly.