"
"I don't generally make no mistake about the number of beans in the game,"
Mr. Moss observed in a self-congratulatory tone. "I can tell a crook from
a mug a bit quicker than most."
"I have suggested to Mr. Moss, my dear," Mr. Parker intervened, turning
toward us with beaming face, "just a little early dinner--say, at
Stephano's--just as we are, you know. Will this be agreeable to you?"
"Certainly!" Eve assented promptly.
"Mr. Moss will tell us some of his little adventures," Mr. Parker
continued, with satisfaction. "Considering that he has had twelve years'
continual work, I think you'll all agree with me that his is a wonderful
record. He has been compelled to enter into a little involuntary--er--
retirement only once during the whole of that time."
Mr. Moss looked a little puzzled.
"He means lagged, don't he?" he remarked, a light breaking in on him.
"Only once in my life--and that for a trifling beano--a lady's bag and a
couple of wipes. I tell you it's no joke nowadays, though. They do watch
you! The profession ain't what it was."
"You will come with us, won't you, Mr. Walmsley?" Eve begged, turning to
me.
"I shall be delighted," I answered, with strenuous mendacity. "Did you say
Stephano's, or what do you think of one of these places closer at hand? I
was told of a little restaurant in Soho the other day, where the cooking
is remarkable.
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