CHAPTER XII

"AS A THIEF IN THE NIGHT--"


The arrival of Dollops lighted a spark of great interest in the servants'
hall. The newly engaged maids accepted him for his youth and sharp
manners, as an innovation which they rather fancied than otherwise.
Borkins alone stood aloof. It seemed to the man that here, in Dollops'
lithe, young form, in the very ginger of his carrotty hair, in the
stridency of this cockney accent--which Cleek had endeavoured to
eradicate without a particle of success--was the reembodiment of the
older, shorter, more mature James Collins. To hear him speak in that
sharp, young voice of his was to make the hair upon one's neck prick in
supernatural discomfort. It was as though James Collins had come back to
life again in the form of this East Side youngster, who was so extremely
unlike his drawling, over-pampered master.

But Dollops had been primed for his task, and set to work at it with a
will.

"Been in these 'ere parts long, Mr. Borkins?" he queried as they all sat
at supper, and he himself munched bread and butter and fish paste with a
vigour that was lacking in only one quality--manners.

Borkins sniffed, and passed up his cup to the housekeeper.