"He's got no head
for it."
"Beg pardon, sir," I said, wishing to explain, but this I was not let
to do.
"Don't start anything like that here," broke in the Tuttle person,
"the police wouldn't stand for it. Just keep quiet and remember you're
among friends."
"Yes, sir; quite so, sir," said I, being somewhat puzzled by these
strange words. "I was merely----"
"Look out, Jeff," warned Cousin Egbert, interrupting me; "he's a devil
when he starts."
"Have you got a knife?" demanded the other suddenly.
"I fancy so, sir," I answered, and produced from my waistcoat pocket
the small metal-handled affair I have long carried. This he quickly
seized from me.
"You can keep your gun," he remarked, "but you can't be trusted with
this in your condition. I ain't afraid of a gun, but I am afraid of a
knife. You could have backed me off the board any time with this
knife."
"Didn't I tell you?" asked Cousin Egbert.
"Beg pardon, sir," I began, for this was drawing it quite too thick,
but again he interrupted me.
"We'd better get him away from this place right off," he said.
"A drive in the fresh air might fix him," suggested Cousin Egbert.
"He's as good a scout as you want to know when he's himself."
Hereupon, calling our waiting cabman, they both, to my embarrassment,
assisted me to the vehicle.
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