"What do you mean, you shrimp?" says I. "Have you been mixed up in anything here?" "Hit was the mide across the way, sir--across the wall, that is to say. Well, perhaps Hi've been too attentive to their Hemmy, sir, from the hupper-story window; but she was that pretty and so fond of me! Hi 'ope Hi did no wrong, sir; but you see, sometimes when all was quite still, sir, Hi did flash a light across from my window on 'ers, and we did 'ave a 'appy time, sir, come midnight--quite silent, sir, and quite far apart; quite respectable, Hi assure you, sir--nothing more--all above the wall; for otherwise Hi couldn't 'ave seen 'er at all." "Was you busy with that sort of thing about one or two o'clock this morning?" I ast him. "I want to know what you done--what happened?" "A great deal 'appened, sir. Quite without plan, I saw a man appear at the window of this 'ouse across the wall; 'e was right by the window and looking across. At first Hi thought 'e was looking at my window and Hi stepped back, not wishing to compromise a lady like Hemmy--that being the 'ousemide's name across the wall, sir." "What was this man doing?" "Hi cawn't 'ardly tell, sir. 'E looked and 'e made some motions. There seemed a light on 'is window too; in fact, all between the two 'ouses seemed quite bright at the time, what with 'im and what with me. A short time afterwards a car went out." I turned on down toward the gate. "Oh, Hi beg of you," says he, "to say nothing over there. Knowing as Hi do that both you and Mr. Wright are very violent men, and caring as Hi do for Hemmy, the 'ousemide, sir, Hi feel most uneasy--Hi do, indeed." "Well, if that's the way you feel, William," says I, "you go on back in the house." "You don't mean any violence, Hi 'ope, sir?" "I don't know yet what I mean; but go on back in." He turns around just about in time, for now I seen two or three people coming in at our front gate. I didn't know any of them. They was young fellows. One of them ast me if I knew anything about the alleged elopement. Then I seen word had got out somehow--like enough from our Annette or their Emmy, and these was maybe newspaper reporters come up to see about it. "I haven't heard of any elopement," says I. "I was just calling our butler down for flirting some with one of their hired girls over there." "May we talk to your butler?" ast one of them. "No; you can't," says I, "because he's gone in to see about breakfast." One of the young fellows looked up and sort of scratched his head with a lead pencil. "I say," says he, "are we on a high love story or one of the servants' quarters? Tell us, friend"--he says to me--"can't you help us out on this?" "It ain't in my line of business," says I; "but it seems plain, if their hired man has run away with our maid, or our butler run away with theirs, it ain't story enough to bother a alderman or his foreman about before breakfast."