"I can explain everything," said a muffled voice through the vizor of the helmet. "I can--achoo." The smoke of the cigarette tickled Sam's nostrils again, and he suspended his remarks.
"I shall count three," said Jane Hubbard. "One--two--"
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" said Sam petulantly.
"You'd better!" said Jane.
"I can't get this dashed helmet off!"
"If you don't come quick, I'll blow it off."
Sam stepped out into the hall, a picturesque figure which combined the costumes of two widely separated centuries. Modern as far as the neck, he slipped back at that point to the Middle Ages.
"Hands up!" commanded Jane Hubbard.
"My hands are up!" retorted Sam querulously, as he wrenched at his unbecoming head-wear.
"Never mind trying to raise your hat," said Jane. "If you've lost the combination, we'll dispense with the formalities. What we're anxious to hear is what you're doing in the house at this time of night, and who your pals are. Come along, my lad, make a clean breast of it and perhaps you'll get off easier. Are you a gang?"
"Do I look like a gang?"
"If you ask me what you look like...."
"My name is Marlowe ... Samuel Marlowe...."
"Alias what?"
"Alias nothing! I say my name is Samuel Marlowe...."
An explosive roar burst from Mr. Bennett. "The scoundrel! I know him! I forbade him the house, and...."
"And by what right did you forbid people my house, Mr. Bennett?" said Mrs. Hignett with acerbity.
"I've rented the house, Mortimer and I rented it from your son...."
"Yes, yes, yes," said Jane Hubbard. "Never mind about that. So you know this fellow, do you?"
"I don't know him!"
"You said you did."
"I refuse to know him!" went on Mr. Bennett. "I won't know him! I decline to have anything to do with him!"
"But you identify him?"
"If he says he's Samuel Marlowe," assented Mr. Bennett grudgingly, "I suppose he is. I can't imagine anybody saying he was Samuel Marlowe if he didn't know it could be proved against him."
"Are you my nephew Samuel?" said Mrs. Hignett.
"Yes," said Sam.
"Well, what are you doing in my house?"
"It's my house," said Mr. Bennett, "for the summer, Henry Mortimer's and mine. Isn't that right, Henry?"