CHAPTER X

JIMMY HAS A VISITOR

"I'm going to be married, Costin," said Jimmy Challoner.

He was deep in an arm-chair, with his legs stuck up on the seat of
another, and he was blowing rather agitated puffs of smoke into the
room from an expensive cigar, for which he had not paid.

Costin was mixing a whisky-and-soda at the table, and just for an
instant the syphon jerked, sending a stream of soda-water over the
cloth.

"Yes, sir; certainly, sir; to--to Miss Farrow, I presoom, sir."

There was a momentary silence, then:

"No, you fathead," said Jimmy Challoner curtly. "To Miss Wyatt--a Miss
Christine Wyatt; and I'm going to be married the day after to-morrow."

"Yes, sir; I'm sure I wish you every happiness, sir. And if I may ask,
sir--will you still be requiring my services?"

Jimmy stared.

"Of course I shall," he said blankly. "Who the police do you think is