you like."

"I don't like," said Miles, sitting down and pulling her
towards him, "come and talk to me, Pegtop."

"I won't be called Pegtop, and as to talking, I have far too
much work to do. The lesson will soon be over, and some of
the pupils have to take these accounts home. Then dejeuner
will soon be ready, and you know how Margot hates having her
well-cooked dishes spoilt by waiting. But why are you here
instead of at work?"

"Hush!" said Miles, laying a finger on her lips. "Papa will
hear you."

"Not he. Hear the noise his fiddle is making, and he is
scolding the poor little wretches like a game-cock."

"Does a game-cock scold?" asked Jennings gravely. "I hope he
is not in a bad temper, Peggy. I have come to ask him a few
questions."

"About your own business?" asked she in a lower tone.

Jennings nodded. Peggy knew his occupation, but as yet he had
not been able to tell Le Beau.

The Frenchman cherished all the traditional hatred of his race
for the profession of "mouchard," and would not be able to
understand that a detective was of a higher standing. Miles