Hartopp," she said. And when "Boiler-plate" tried to deny the insinuation, his wife nudged him on the arm and whispered: "Shut up, Jim."
There isn't any use in stringing out the amateur theatricals the five of us indulged in that night.
The Drayton servants were too well chosen to show any surprise at being told to put on a champagne supper at midnight, and then go to bed before it was served. We sat at that mahogany table until the candelabra were guttering, and each of us had toyed more than he ought to have done with his glass. Natica acted as if she were entertaining in earnest, and for the time being I actually think she felt that she was.
She got the Hartopp to sing her "Jo-Jo" song, and the Hartopp actually did it as if she enjoyed it. Afterward Natica induced "Boiler-plate" to tell about the time he mixed it up with Fitzsimmons for ten rounds.
"It was a lucky punch that put me out," he kept repeating, almost pathetically.
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