night; for his eyes were not shot with red veins nor did his lips
lack their usual healthy moisture. The officer who had taken him in
charge, being a shrewd and trained observer, noted the white hands,
soft and well-kept. He shook his head.

"Look here, me lad, you're no groom, not by several years. Now, what
th' devil was ye up to, anyway?"

"I'm not saying a word, sir," smiled Warburton. "All I want to know
is, am I to have any breakfast? I shouldn't mind some peaches and
cream or grapes to start with, and a small steak and coffee."

"Ye wouldn't mind, hey?" mimicked the officer. "What d'ye think this
place is, th' Metropolitan Club? Ye'll have yer bacon an' coffee, an'
be glad t' git it. They'll feed ye in th' mess-room. Come along."

Warburton took his time over the coffee and bacon. He wanted to think
out a reasonable defense without unmasking himself. He was thinking
how he could get word to me, too. The "duffer" might prove a friend
in need.

"Now where?" asked Warburton, wiping his mouth.

"T' th' court. It'll go hard with ye if ye're handed over t' th'
grand jury on th' charge of abduction. Ye'd better make a clean
breast of it. I'll speak a word for yer behavior."

"Aren't you a little curious?"

"It's a part of me business,"--gruffly.