Don Roddy tried to butt in, and when he got the frozen face he
used langwidge more like a cow-puncher than a bull-fighter. I didn't
trouble to change my clothes, because it seemed to be the custom to walk
about like freaks at Mi-Careme, and we had a lovely promenade in the
pale moonlight.
"When I returned the revelry was nearly over an' the orchestra was
getting limp. I went into the cloak-room to change my clothes, but I
couldn't find 'em anywhere. What annoyed me most about it was that there
was five francs in my trouser pockets which I was saving to pay you back
the loan I borrered last week."
"I wondered when you were going to say something about that," said Chris
Jones.
"It fair upset me," continued Chippo. "And then all at once I saw my old
pal the Toreador sneaking out of the door with a bundle an' the leg of
a pair of khaki trousers hanging out of it. I gave a wild whoop an' was
after him like the wind.
"Don Roddy was some runner. He doubled down the Roo Roubray, dodged
round a corner an' made for the Grand Pont. I was gaining on him fast
when I plunked into the arms of two Military Police.
"'What particular specie of night-bird do you call yourself?' said one
of 'em, holding my arm in a grip of iron.
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