"Samuel," she asked, "why did you leave my cousin's?"
Samuel hesitated. "I--I don't like to say, Miss Gladys."
"Please tell me," she insisted.
"I left it," he replied in a low voice, "because I found that he got
drunk."
"Oh!" said the girl, "when was this?"
"It was last Wednesday night, Miss Gladys."
"Tell me all about it, Samuel."
"I--I don't like to," he stammered. "It's not a story to tell to a
lady."
"I already know something about it from my maid," said she. "Jack
Holliday was there, wasn't he?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And some women?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"How many, Samuel?"
"Four, Miss Gladys."
"Tell me about them, Samuel. What sort of women were they?"
It was very hard for Samuel to answer these questions. He blushed as
he talked; but Miss Gladys appeared not at all disconcerted--in fact
she was greedy for the details.
"You say her name was Belle. I wonder if it was that girl from 'The
Maids of Mandelay.' Was she a dancer, Samuel?"
"I don't know, Miss Gladys."
"And what became of her?"
"I took her to a hotel, Miss Gladys."
"And what then?"
Samuel stopped short. "I really couldn't tell you," he said.
"But why not?"
"Because I promised."
"Whom did you promise?"
"I promised the sergeant, Miss Gladys."
"The sergeant! A policeman, you mean?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"But what--what did the police have to do with it?"
"They took me to jail, Miss Gladys.
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