When Logan came back he turned to tell Sims at the door that he would not be needed again, at any rate, for the present.  Then he shut himself and Peter into the rosy glow of the dining-room.

“At last!” he exclaimed, sinking contentedly into the chair opposite Rolls.  “I feel as if I’d earned a whole bottle of drink.  But all’s well that ends well.”

“It hasn’t quite ended yet, has it?” remarked Peter.  “No, thank you, no champagne!”

“Not ended?” repeated Logan, bottle in hand.  “Oh, I see what you’re at!” and he began filling his own glass, already emptied half a dozen times during the visit of the detectives.  “You mean you want an explanation of this hanky panky.  Well, I promised it to you, didn’t I?  I said you must give me the benefit of the doubt till those chaps were out of the house.  I hope you have.  But I thought once or twice you looked a bit thick, as if you weren’t sure what I’d let you in for.  But I’m not the kind of chap to get a pal in a fix to save my own face.  I’m going to explain, all right.  Only first I want to thank you again for—–­”

“You needn’t,” said Peter.

“Sure you won’t change your mind and take a little fizz?  We’ve been through some hot work for this weather.”

“You have.  No—­not any!”

“One go at mine, then, and I’m yours.  A-ah! that was pretty good.  Well—­there was a girl, of course.  But she came because she wanted to come.  Then the trouble began.  There was a little misunderstanding about a pearl dog collar she admired in a jeweller’s window.  She seemed disappointed to find that this wasn’t to be the occasion of a presentation.  Said I’d promised.  I hadn’t!  I never do promise beforehand to give girls things.  Girls would love to have the same effect on your money the sun has on ice.  Not that this one’s like all the others.  She’s worth a little expenditure.  A real stunner!  Any fellow’d be wild over her.  An English girl, tall and slim, but gorgeous figure:  long legs and throat, and dark eyes as big as saucers.  You’d turn and look after her anywhere!  A lady, and thinks herself the queen, though she works in a New York department store.  I’ve been running after her since one night we made acquaintance in the park—­great chums—­called each other Jim and Winnie and held hands from the first.

“But to-night, just because I said I’d never promised a dog collar or anything like one, she went mad as a tiger cat and took revenge by ringing up the police with a beast of a story that I’d kidnapped her.  She got it out before I could make her stop, and for just a minute I was in a blue funk.  New York’s rampagin’ so just now on the subject of kidnappers.  But I had wit enough to chuck her into the street and run to the club for help.  I thought of Freddy Fortescue (by the way, I must get him to stand by me with a story in case he’s questioned.  I can count on him every time!), but he wasn’t in.  I tried another man or two, same result, and just then I saw you coming downstairs—­ram caught in the bushes.”