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And with that he left me.
"Well, General," said I to General c.o.x, a week later at the club, "heard anything further about your pepper-pots yet?"
"Most singular thing, Jenkins," said he. "The d--d things turned up again one morning last week, and where the devil they came from, I can't imagine. One of them, however, had a piece of paper in it on which was written 'Returned with thanks for their use and apologies for having kept them so long.'"
The General opened his wallet and handed me a slip which he took from it.
"There it is. What in thunder do you make out of it?" he asked.
It was in Raffles Holmes's hand-writing.
"Looks to me as though Bruce also had been robbed," I laughed.
"Bruce? Who the devil said anything about Bruce?" demanded the General.
"Why, didn't you tell us he had one of 'em on his table?" said I, reddening.
"Did I?" frowned the General. "Well, if I did, I must be a confounded a.s.s. I thought I took particular pains not the mention Bruce's name in the matter."
And then he laughed.
"I shall have to be careful when Bruce comes to dine with me not to have those pepper-pots in evidence," he said. "He might ask embarra.s.sing questions."
And thus it was that Raffles Holmes atoned for at least one of the offences of his ill.u.s.trious grandsire.
THE END
