“You can stay where you are,” was the answer.

“Thanks.  But when you’re satisfied that a mosquito or so’s the only live stock on the premises, I should like you both to crack a bottle of champagne with us.”

“It wouldn’t be quite in order—–­”

“Hang order!  The police and I are pals.  Now you’ll do me proud if you’ll look in on your way out.  Bring the girl, if you find her!” And Logan laughed at his own joke.

“Don’t think I’ve let you in for anything!” he turned to Rolls as the door shut.  “They’ll find no one, for the good reason that there’s no one to find.  All the same, I should have been in a mess if you hadn’t come right along like a brick and helped me out.”

“I don’t quite see yet how I have helped you,” rather dryly remarked Petro.

“But I guess you’re guessing.”

“If I’ve guessed right, I’m not enjoying the joke.”

“Then maybe you haven’t guessed right!  Give me the benefit of the doubt till those good men and true are the other side of the front door, will you?  I’m as rattled as they make ’em now!  Say, this is a raid, ain’t it?  Wonder if they’ve got the Black Maria outside?  Can’t you eat any caviar?  Wish you would.  Well, shall we skip along to the consomme?”

“I’ve just got down my dinner,” said Rolls, who was guessing too hard to taste anything with salt in it, in his old classmate’s house.

“Well, a little of this champagne cup, anyhow?  It’s girls’ drink, but not bad this weather, and old Sims is a nailer at mixing—–­”

“No, thanks, nothing at all.”

“You must let me half fill your glass, or those chaps will get onto it that you’re playing dummy!” As he spoke Logan poured champagne cup into Peter’s tall tumbler and his own.  The latter he filled with the ice-cold, sparkling liquid which, as he said, was “girls’ drink,” and then, seizing the glass, emptied it in one long draft.

It was he who did most of the talking that whiled away time till the policemen returned from their tour of the house; and when they opened the door of the dining-room once more he was eating chicken salad while Peter crumbled toast.

“I don’t see the lady!” Logan exclaimed facetiously, with his mouth full.

“Neither did we,” said the man who had taken the lead.

“Hope you did the thing thoroughly while you were about it!  Garret to cellar and all the rest?”

“You bet we did,” returned the policeman, allowing himself the relief of a grin now.  “I guess you was right about the practical joke.  But you must excuse us if we look behind these curtains.”

“Under the table, too!” laughed Logan, jumping to his feet.  “Stand and deliver, Rolls!”

Petro obeyed rather reluctantly, feeling that he had been made a fool of, at best, in his stupid wish to be good-natured.  It might be a joke, as Logan insisted, but something told him it was not.  The look on the fellow’s face as he gulped down the champagne cup had not been funny.  It was in Petro’s mind that he had been brought in to cover up with his presence an unpleasant incident and ignorantly to trick the police.